Invisible Swan
by Inudaughter Returns
Summary: At age 18 Arnold is finally able to return to the old boarding house. But the girl he loves has vanished from everyone's sight. Can he find her again and can he convince her he's worth loving? Gerald, Phoebe, and Arnold are on the case.
1. Chapter 1

I always enjoyed reading Purdy boys mysteries when I was young. It was even an idle fancy from time to time that when I grew up I would be a detective. But when I grew up, and had a mystery to face with my main man (best friend) Gerald by my side, being a detective wasn't at all the enjoyable adventure I'd imagined it would be. Instead it was my only means of possibly living instead living a life of hell and remorse.

My parents moved my last remaining grandparent (Grandpa) and me away from the boarding house when I was twelve. Grandpa resented being called old and feeble but stuck by me when my parents decided the neighborhood I'd cherished was full of bad influences. They'd been informed by Principal Wartz of the not-so-singular times I'd had something marked on my permanent record like the day he had suspended me or I had played hokey. Some of the tales of my exploits got around to them. They did not approve of a twelve year old boy with romantic attachments and they did not appreciate Grandpa's senile humor like I did.

Instead they wanted me to go to college. To become wealthy and famous and accomplished and by default then, happy. My parents meant well for me. But at the core of it all it was the same as not caring about me. They took me away from everything I knew and loved.

On the eve of my fifteenth year, I remember her cerulean eyes startling mine after we had tumbled into each other at a bus stop. Just like the good old days. We were teenage runaways for five long days. Our lips crashed and met and we thirsted for one another like the day on which she played Juliet and I was Romeo. We reenacted the play with our souls. With our very bodies. But then just as mysteriously as Helga's arrival in the city where I lived she vanished once more only to send me a postcard three weeks later saying she had returned home and I had sulked home to my parents. Until the eve I had turned eighteen. Technically, I left a half a day before I turned eighteen but by the time anyone found out about it, it would be too late to bring me back. Instead, I flew straight back the boarding house Grandpa had sold me in defiance to my doubting father- his son. I had hoped against all hope when I arrived there that Helga would be waiting for me there on the stoop.

Instead I laid my suitcases down on a dusty street. No one had swept the leaves from the sidewalk for years and the roof leaked in more than a few places. I had to mend what I could myself. And in the meantime I looked for traces of my old life.

There were plenty of children in the neighborhood- none of them with blond hair. I took this both as a discouragement and an encouragement. My friend Gerald was still in touch but Phoebe had pursued her first love of scholarship out of the city long ago. Of most of my childhood friends there was no trace. The old Pataki house was a heartache that stabbed me through so painfully I thought I would die on my feet as I saw it. The windows were boarded shut and I vandalized it to enter, hoping against hope there would be some clue as where its former occupants had gone. Olga Pataki's old trophies still lined the walls. Big Bob's commercial tapes lay about the living room. Upstairs in Helga's room, I lay on her bed and breathed in dust. Then I forced open the lock to her closet. Within in lay more letters addressed to me than I could ever carry. But never sent. My heart stopped.

I needed to know why. And where. Where had the love of my life vanished? It was as if the pain of the entire seven years apart from her were a mere discomfort eclipsed by this grand thing- this loss- as if I had been widowed. Gerald had a a few choice cuss words when I called him past two in the morning. Half-read letters clutched in hand, I pleaded with him to let me know whatever it was he had been holding back from me.

"I'm telling you man," Gerald complained into phone, his complaint coming out more as a baritone rasp than sigh. "Helga stopped talking to me and even Phoebe three years ago. When she dropped out of high school." I placed my hand over the receiver and nearly swooned.

"Dropped out of high school?"

"But then I heard from my mother who used to work with her at the store, ya know, checking out groceries and stuff, that she enrolled in a private academy. Big Bob had plenty of money for her to advance to a... debutant academy. She didn't need public high school. Rhonda Loyd didn't either. Come to think of it, if you find Miss Lloyd or Curly, you might find out something about her. Both their families are loaded, ya know."

"I'm going to the library first thing in the morning," I said slamming down the cold, hard plastic pay phone receiver I was holding. I breathed out the chill, early pre-dawn air then went back inside to lay down on Helga's old bed in the ruins of a house that was once hers.

"She never wrote back," I muttered out loud to myself. "Damn." I had sent her a letter once a week, hoping. She had written a letter every single day it seemed and stashed it away in the closet never to be seen again. So far the letters I had read lacked the knowledge I was seeking. There were simply too many. I would need to enlist help to read them all.

The library had every phone book there was in the city, and then some. Anxiously, I looked for Pataki but found none. Nauseated with worry, I then dialed the first familiar number I could find. In three short rings I was connected to Gerald's mother, I explained to her the situation as calmly and as humbly as I could.

"Helga Pataki?" she said pausing to turn off whatever breakfast food she had been cooking on the stove. "I remember your friend. Everyday when she was a little girl she would come in and buy a snack or drink for herself from the mini-mart. And then when she was a teenager- how can I say this? She was going through a rough patch."

"How so?" I said, my teeth grinding in anticipation. "She missed you. And things weren't going so well at home. Her mother was attending Alcoholics Anonymous Meetings but then she relapsed a few weeks after she filed for divorce. Overturned her car. Poor Helga. The girl was never very fond of her mother but it was hard for her all the same. She worked at the mini-mart with me part-time for half a year before she finally pulled herself together to go back to school. Her father sent her to a private academy uptown. She dropped by from time to time to let me know how she was doing. Helga did very well in school. She even graduated early at the age of seventeen. I remember her sending me prints of her accepting her diploma in her graduation gown and tassel board. A very sweet girl." I sucked in my breath and bit it to keep my exclamation of relief there.

"Can I get copies of the prints? Do know how I can get in touch with her?"

"No, sorry, honey, I don't."

I said my goodbyes and thanks and hung up the phone carefully. I rang Gerald at his apartment next. He had found a job as a department shoe-store clerk handily long before his graduation. These days he was enjoying his freedom although from time to time Phoebe and he met up for a date and to keep in touch before she went back to her pursuit in a doctorate in neurosciences. On this morning, my best friend did not disappoint.

"Yeah. Hey, Arnold," Gerald yawned sleepily into the phone. "Look man, I rang up Phoebe last night and she'll be over to meet us at noon. Slausen 's Ice Cream. Yeah, yeah I know man. You owe me a thousand favors. But this one's on the house. I worry about what happened to the old girl, too. Just finish up at the library, alright?" I grimaced. That meant I had no time to look through the newspaper files for clues. But at least I had a start on the case. And allies.

"Okay Gerald," I said looking at my watch. I would have to peel through the remaining phone books in under two hours. In them, I found only two more old school mates. Harold was married to Big Patty and they now owned Green's Meats. Stinky Peterson had not left his family's old residence- a wooden home that his great-grandparents had dragged into the city during the Great Depression. Stinky had a lot to say about his job frying french fries but he had nothing to say about Helga. He only knew, too, that she had disappeared.

"Such a shame," he said over the phone with his long, southern accent drawl. "Such a sad, sad, tragic tale. With her mother crashing on the interstate and all."

I hung up on Stinky Peterson, cross. I was cross with myself, too, for it was to late to dig into the newspaper files about the crash today. It was already time for me to meet Phoebe and Gerald at Slausen 's.

Mostly I was angry at myself. For allowing Helga to vanish on me like this. For not knowing or being there for her in her difficult times. Why did she write me letters and never send them? Why had she shown up so suddenly after April's Fools day and melt against me so full of tears but also silence? Why hadn't she admitted to me just how bad things had gotten at home? Instead she resisted honesty like she always did. But this time her lips had distracted me from her half-truths. With her body snugly against mine and the sweet smell of her hair all around me I had been like half-drugged and not in the mood for interrogation.

I had dreamed of Helga ever since I had bloomed late at eleven. Every dream I had of a woman either waking or asleep had been of Helga. Over the years we had spent apart I had awaken with my hand curled out as if to touch her so often. I was eager to touch the real thing when she arrived so suddenly at my door. Helga had been as anxious for my touch as I had been for hers. Over the five days we had spent run away together, we slept together intertwined out under the stars or huddled under a porch on some rooftop. We were desperate and wild to be alone together for as long as two fifteen-year olds could. We had been speaking of moving to a small village and lying about our age when Helga disappeared. I had never been so angry or relieved when I got her postcard from our old hometown.

Reliving these thoughts had made my face contort into a horrible mask. My Darker Arnold was showing through. Like the time I had started a riot during a heatwave or broke into Future Tech Industries. I stopped to watch my reflection in the glass and calmed before I pressed open the door to enter Slausen 's. It was a regrettable choice of location by Gerald because this place pained me, too. Helga and I had a date of sorts here, on the way back home from school after I had blinded her by mistake in an April Fool's prank. That night she and I fit together so snugly as we did the tango for the YMAA April Fool's Ball. It was on that night more than any other that I discovered that the chemistry between us was incredible and almost irresistible. But at Slausen's there was a softer memory as well. That of Helga as a person I knew and cared for deeply.

Gerald and Phoebe waited for me inside the restaurant with anxious eyes. I knew my sleeplessness was showing. There were dark circles under my eyes and I had gone unshaved. But I did not give a damn about my appearance on this day.

"Phoebe," I said looking across the table imploringly as I slid into it. "Please, you've got to help me."

"I'll try," said Phoebe fiddling with the straw of the milkshake she had been drinking as she and Gerald waited for me. Gerald lifted a hand high up into the air.

"Three coffees!" he said hailing the waiter. I gave myself permission to have a little hope then. Because now three of us were on the case.


	2. Chapter 2

Midnight found me breaking and entering the Pataki house again to steal every letter I could pass through the window to Gerald and Phoebe. We waited with bated breath for a police car to roll by my Grandpa's old, green Packard. Though he had gifted it to me, I had made sure the license plate still read HEAP when I had gone to re-register it the day before yesterday. The old green Packard would forever be for me an emblem of my fonder early childhood, and my grandparents.

I needed that comfort now as I stowed away Helga's unsent letters to me in the car's back. Then, as though Gerald, Phoebe, and me were in on a kidnapping or a murder, I rolled myself into the small bit of uncluttered space and cried, "Punch it Gerald!" much like I had to my grandmother so many years ago when she was still alive and I was still nine.

Gerald revved the Packard's engine into gear and we pulled away with grins that turned grim. We could get into trouble for this- real trouble- only I didn't think so. The house had been disused for years and it did not seem as if anyone cared about it. No one would notice the deed. Still, reflecting on the house as we sped away, I thought it odd that no for sale sign sat in front of it.

Gerald and Phoebe unpacked the loot in my house. I locked the papers up in Ernie's old room because it was in the best shape and nearest to my room. I could renovate the boarding house someday, I mused. I had been working since I was fourteen and I had kept practically every cent I had ever earned in hopes of leaving my parent's wings as rapidly as possible. But there was a much bigger concern to wrestle now. I had to find Helga before I went mad with despair. Instead of sleep I played with the ring I had bought for her the very hour she had vanished. I had cursed myself a thousand times for leaving her side for even a moment to buy that ring. Instead I should have kept my eyes on her until it was months too late for her to have second doubts about our misadventure. For countless nights since I have both hoped for and hoped against all hope that I had got her with child.

We had both been fifteen on that reckless night that Helga had run away to me. There were tears in her eyes and she had told me that her parents were likely to divorce. But then she had kissed me, hard, and I had wanted -no needed- to kiss her back. When my cellphone rang I turned it off and removed its card. I had taken Helga's hand in mine and fled.

That night, no one was going to take the girl, the fledgling woman I loved, away from me. We found the sandy shore along a brook called Palouse. I wrapped her in my arms and rained kisses down her neck, her throat. I gave in to the dreams I had been dreaming with her for the last three years.

I took several hundred dollars of cash out of my bank account in the morning and stubbornly I refused to go home for five days straight. Instead we lived on take-out food and lived on love until that moment I had walked into a jewelry store without her to buy that damnable ring. Helga had bolted on me the moment I turned my back.

Helga was always a realist. I had been the romantic... the dreamer. The hard edge of reality came crashing in when I went home only to be grounded and chaperoned ruthlessly day in, day out by my overprotective parents. It was as if they were making up for the lost time of their absence during my childhood by leaving me no room to grow. No place to feel or think or act as a man. My time with them became more suffocating than ever before. But I knew for certain they would never let me keep Helga. No more than her father would have let me keep her. In fleeing, Helga had been the more reasonable of the two of us. But I was still angry and hurt and… curious. What had happened to my blue-eyed siren?

When I woke again it was as though I had been drinking all night. My head pounded and I could hardly see straight. Yet I threw on my jacket and paced as fast as I could toward bus stop. I meant to spend the day in the library again. The date of Helga's mother's car crash was startling. Exactly one week and two days had passed since Helga and I had parted from one another. Helga must have returned home only to a broiling just as bad or even worse than the one I had received from my parents. Perhaps we, in some sense, had been the final rift.

"Miriam Pataki. Dead at age 53," I read out loud from the obituary column. After the nearest, wizened librarian look scoldingly at me for my outburst, I bent my head to the historical record again. These were the days when not all newspapers had been scanned into a computer. They were copied onto a roll of film instead and scrolled through the machine, so it was critical that I not be kicked out of the library for misbehavior. This was certainly not research I could do at home. My mouth was bitter so I washed it out with another cup of coffee. Then I called Gerald.

"It's true," I said. "Miriam is dead. Why did no one tell me?"

"Ease up there, man," said Gerald confronted by my anger. "Remember how I told you Helga dropped out of school and stopped talking to us? Well, she did it five weeks before she went running away to you, man. There was some sort of trouble brewing at home. Right Phoebe?"

"Right," said Phoebe adjusting her glasses. "During one of our, sorrowfully last conversations as good friends Helga mentioned that her older sister, Olga, had moved back home."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing?" I said. "Her parents loved having Olga around. And I believe that Helga was really making peace with her sister!" But Phoebe became increasingly nervous. She adjusted her glasses again for a good long while.

"Well, Helga said that in Big Bob's words, she was "one great big screw up." I got the impression that instead of being the bond that had kept the Pataki's together, she was now it's wedge."

"So to find out what happened to the Patakis, we have to find out what happened with Olga first?" said Gerald with an eyebrow quirked high. "This is getting COMPLICATED."

"I know," I sighed kicking my feet up. There was one thorn it was taboo to touch, but I did it anyway. "So why did you guys LET Helga stop talking to you? Why didn't you knock on her door and make her see sense?"

"Why didn't you, man?" Gerald snapped. "Look, forget I said that, man. Helga was pushing us away on purpose. She was just plain jealous of Phoebe and me. She told us flat out one time that it made her bitter to talk to us. That we reminded her of you. And when we tried to make peace all she did was quit attending the same school as us so she could avoid us."

"Gerald. You should have told me," I said forcing myself to be calmer. Even though I was almost angry enough with my best friend to beat him. They had been hiding things from me. All this time.

"Look, man, I know you were suffering enough as it was. You didn't need to shoulder other people's burdens." But it would have meant the world to me if I had. I wanted all of Helga's burdens and the woman who went with it. Instead, all I could do was glower and growl angrily.

"I'm going home," I said slapping a five dollar bill down on the table. "I have letters to read."

"Arnold," Phoebe said with desperate bravery. Though she spoke as loud as she could her plaintiff still came out weak and reedy. "I know that it's hard for you to forgive us but we're your friends. I promise to do all I can to look up Olga Pataki. And Helga. I'll be taking time off starting tomorrow. I've informed all my professors that I have a… family crisis," Phoebe said looking away suddenly. It was the guilt she always felt after she realized she had done wrong. Like the time she had faked a broken leg in front of Helga. I suddenly felt more forgiving to my old schoolmates.

"Then tomorrow we do this," I said offering Phoebe Heyerdahl a firm, business like handshake across the table. The years I had spent growing up bereaved of the joy of childhood had left a hard edge in me and in that handshake they understood it. I was giving them a second chance. Not a blank check.

"You should go home and rest," said Gerald, concerned. "Don't worry, man. We won't let you down."

"Good," I said feeling that even if I never saw Helga in this world again, at least she had left with my soul a part of her business savvy.

What Phoebe found next was not at all what I had expected. But neither had Phoebe or myself expected me, Arnold Shortman, to surround myself in a shrine of Helga's letters. I nearly buried myself in them day in, day out for half a week as I read them. Her notes were as holy as church candles to me and the comfort of having them near me was like a glow near my heart. But it was a madness also.

I hardly ate. Mostly I drank whatever sodas Gerald brought for me when he visited. I could tell by his eyes he was growing concerned for me. I had never looked worse. At last, because my best friend's eyes were pleading I changed my clothes and ran my old ones through the washer. Then I broke down and cooked a real meal for all of us. My first real meal for days.

"How goes the letter reading?" Phoebe warily, afraid I would break. But I did not. Instead I shook my head slowly from side to side.

"No clues where she might be- yet. So far she's talked about life in the public high school. How she hated it. Helga has mentioned very little that her parents were fighting. Expect that one letter," I said thinking back painfully on the most rumpled note I had found yet. It had been visibly stained with tears and I had nearly added tears of my own. Helga had, for one weak moment, cried out to me, before deciding that this note, too, like the others, must not be sent. Such stubbornness is a trait of Helga's that makes me gnash my teeth. But I love her even with this anguish-inflicting nature.

So far, the letters had not told me where Helga was now. But early on they began to answer WHY. Helga had chosen to NOT send these letters to me out of pride. She had been determined to prove she could make it on her own. Without using me as an emotional crutch. As her sole inspiration for art and poetry. Helga wanted to prove to herself and to the world she could live without love. She could live without me. But something had changed as she had written to me, in spirit if not person. As her home life had worsened she had needed the real me more.

But when Phoebe started up a film in Gerald's living room, it was not a girl with a heart of despair that I saw. Instead it was a swan, rising, stretching, filling the Hillwood screen with a face that had been groomed to flawless beauty. The camera lingered on the strong curve of her neck. The earlobes that tilted back. Helga's unibrow was gone. Instead, it had been carefully sculpted into two neat, but still dramatic brows.

"WHAT. IS. THIS," I stuttered looking at the paper box the movie had come in. Gerald looked at Phoebe for a long minute. I could feel their criticism of my recent poor temper before I got an explanation.

"I was just as surprised as you are," said Phoebe gazing toward the slender silhouette on screen. "Apparently, when Olga Pataki came home to stay she took a job in the local TV station. She was.. let's say peculiarly obsessed.. with becoming famous so that her former fiance would find her again. I have tapes of a soap opera she was part of but it's.. in all honesty… just terrible. She must be the worst actress I have ever seen."

"BUT," said Phoebe changing direction of the conversation. "Helga's name came up in the credits for one of the supporting roles. From there, I was able to find that she essayed parts in a number of films. Mostly as extras, really. Like the girl who walks a dog across the street at exactly the wrong time. Or the waitress in a restaurant scene. But then, I was surprised that she began to play villains. In this one, exceptional film, Helga features prominently. She is a girl who is tragically killed in a horrifying accident, then comes back as a ghost to haunt her former classmates. First, she keeps appearing on school buses all over the city. Then, on a dark, stormy afternoon, she enters the school holding her skull and tells the boy she loved that he must find her missing necklace and return it to her skull before she turns into an evil wraith for all eternity. It's a terrifying movie, really, but in the end, the spirit finds inner peace and is able to move on. For a film made in Hillwood, it was quite good. But a little scary."

I watched the film in silence. It moved me with a sickeningly sweet nostalgia to see Helga so close I could gaze into her sparkling blue eyes. I would have liked to sweep back that long, gold hair. But it shocked and numbed me to see her die onscreen (if even in pretense). My chest was colder than ice to see Helga, with makeup, act out being a ghost when for all I knew the reason she had vanished along with the other Patakis was that she had become one.

"So what next?" I asked, eager for more answers. Gerald coughed once to get my attention. "Well, while Phoebe was down at the tv station I helped her… ya know… ask around for anyone who knew her. There was one little scandal still going round the rumor mill about Olga Pataki. Apparently Helga introduced her to Ronnie Matthews while he was in town doing concerts and soon Olga had a thing going for him. Olga dropped out of acting because she was making an even bigger mess out of her personal life than ever. Plus she was depressed. Have you read anything about Olga so far in Helga's letters?"

"No," I answered dully. I was ashamed of myself for having gotten so little far into the vast collection of unsent letters Helga had left behind.

"Perhaps if I were to organize them," said Phoebe.

"They're already organized," I said. "They're dated. But they stop four months after she visited me that one time."

"Visited who? You?" said Gerald quirking his brow in that way of his. I realized it was the first time I had ever mentioned that part of my life to him. Instead, when on the telephone, I had always asked him, "How's Helga?" and he would answer that their family business, Big Bob's Beeper's, was skyrocketing. Over the years it had become a chain store. I came to the realization with joy, Big Bob's Beepers was exactly the place to try next.

"Yeah, yeah. She visited me once," I said suddenly distracted. "Now where's your phone book Gerald. I need to call Big Bob's Beepers."

"Oh wow. I hadn't thought of that," said Phoebe stating the obvious.

If it had been the old days I would have been able to connect with Big Bob Pataki automatically. Back then, he had staffed his own store. But now, it seemed, he had moved into a corporate office somewhere and they weren't about to let me speak to him. I cursed the telephone operator after I had hung up.

"Go make us a fresh pot of coffee, Arnold, said Gerald pointing in my direction. "And some fried eggs. Heck, order us some takeout. Here's my credit card. I'm about to pull an all-nighter."

"Well, I don't know if I can stay up all night," said Phoebe. "But I am eager to begin research on the Big Bob's Beepers Corporation. Gerald, I'll need to borrow your computer."

"Sure thing, baby," Gerald spoke suavely to Phoebe in the way she had always liked. I retreated to the kitchen as fast as I was able.


	3. Chapter 3

**Spoiler Alert: Characters in this chapter are Arnold, Gerald, Phoebe, Grandpa, Sid, Stinky, Lila, Curly, and yes, Helga. There's a happy ending so wait for it. Thanks for reading and reviewing.**

Finding Helga's father, Bob Pataki, was much easier than I had imagined. But being allowed to have a word with him was the opposite of simple. The man had always been impossible. But it seemed that Big Bob and all his Beeper Emporium with him had only gotten more difficult with time.

Gerald, Phoebe, and I all tried our best to get a word in with Helga's father, but no matter who we spoke to, the answer was always no. It took a bit of subterfuge on Phoebe and Gerald's part before we could finally reach him. Gerald pretended to be represent Phoebe in a contract for a large number of electronic devices before we were finally connected through to the man who had once sponsored my elementary school float.

"Yes, yes," Gerald had said on the telephone. "Now I apologize but I need you to speak to an associate of mine." Gerald had snapped his fingers and given me his got-to-it power finger. With fear, I took the telephone receiver from Gerald's hand and put it to my ear.

"Yes. Hello. Sorry about all this but this is Arnold Shortman. You know... your daughter's friend from grade school. I was hoping you could help me get in touch with Helga." My direct honesty was rewarded by the prompt dial tone. Big Bob Pataki had hung up.

"Well, that went well," said Gerald with sarcasm. But I could tell that deep down he was sympathetic.

I ground my teeth together in frustration. Big Bob's Beeper Emporium Corporation now reached across several major cities in the nation. Selling electronics in bulk was the only way to flourish in the industry, and Helga's father had excelled far beyond what I had ever anticipated. According to his company's stats, he was poised to become a millionaire.

Hearing Phoebe relate all this to me only made me unhappy. It made the truth of what had happened to Helga all the more inaccessible. I had to find her- had to find the woman I loved- but now she was hid behind a corporate veil. It was even a possibility that she had moved to another city with her father. It was possible also that she might have struck out on her own.

"What do we do?" Phoebe asked Gerald. The two exchanged hands to comfort one another and I turned away from the sight. Their moment seemed too private, too sacred somehow... and it reminded me of Helga.

"Give the stores a few more rings, I guess," said Gerald. "We might just have to fall back on spying. Like good 'ol FTI."

"Or hire a detective," said Phoebe who had much less a taste for adventure and mayhem that Helga had shown on the night when she had been our lawless informant, Deep Voice. "We could leave this to a professional."

"Um-hum," Gerald muttered uncommittally. We both knew that hiring a detective would be tough for youth just scraping by.

"I'll go make us some dinner," Phoebe announced, defusing the situation. "You two keep working."

We searched for telephone numbers, fax numbers, or stores we hadn't already tried. Then, out of stubbornness, I began to call the local beeper emporiums again just in case I could get someone new or someone to cave in and offer me information about how to contact Helga. If Big Bob's Beepers was a dead-end, I didn't know where else to look. Perhaps we could fake an offer on the old, vacant Pataki house in case it would turn up new leads.

Exhausted, I decided to give the phone one more try before digging into the dinner plate Phoebe had brought for me an hour earlier.

"Hello?" I spoke earnestly into the phone as it rung and was picked up. "Ma'am, my name's Arnold. Arnold Shortman. I really need to speak to Helga Pataki. Please. Will you let me speak to her?" I listened for a response but on the other end of the line was silence. "Please. Ma'am. Ma'am?" I asked prodding for a response. But Gerald came and laid a firm hand on my shoulder.

"Give it up man," he announced. "Get your coat on. Phoebe found something. We're going to visit the graveyard now. " On the other side of the line I thought I heard a tiny gasp. But this I dismissed as proof that everyone was Big Bob's Beepers Emporium was determined to pretend they could not hear me or tell me anything about Helga.

"Alright," I said with a deep sigh. I hung up the phone then carried my dinner with me. Gerald was driving so I had time to eat dinner in the Packard. I spooned the pasta dish into my mouth with difficulty as Gerald navigated a curve. When my meal was finished, I looked up into the car mirror at Gerald and Phoebe. I did not like the mood coming from them at all.

"Okay. What are we here to see?" I asked nervously when Gerald had parked outside of Hillwood Cemetery.

"Well," said Gerald awkwardly turning around in the seat. "Phoebe came up with the idea of visiting Miriam's grave. She looked up as much as she could find about the funeral and well, she found something we need to come here to check out for ourselves." Silent, I opened the Packard door and climbed out.

In my life I had done a lot of crazy and gutsy things. I had climbed the back of the motorcycle of Frankie G. and gone off to play hokey at the age of nine years old. I had played Casanova, going out with two different girls at a time on more than one occasion. I had helped Gerald drive a runaway bus up a ramp and over a fifty foot chasm in the interstate. I had even journeyed into a South American jungle on a dangerous adventure to find my parents. But nothing stole my courage as our silent march through the cemetery did.

I had come here once before as child on a dare. Helga had dressed herself in a bridal dress, pretending to the local "ghost bride" in order to scare me. Another of my friends, Curly had done the same, and frightened, Helga had looked up to me to save her as we had hidden together in one of the crypts. "I'll come back for you," I had said to her when I had decided to go out and confront the ghost. The words I had said back then filled me with the dread of anticipation now.

It was not dark yet. The warmth of the sun aided our search as we found our way to the cemetery's newest sites. A high stone pillar caught our attention there. It must have cost thousands to erect. On it the name Miriam Pataki had been engraved. I thought that was what the purpose of our adventure must be, but Phoebe approached me as I studied Miriam's engraved headstone. Then, with tears beading in her eyes, she nudged Gerald in the elbow.

"I'm sorry, man," said Gerald with his finger pointing down the line of gravestones like the grim reaper. I read a second epitaph I did not like. "Helga Pataki." Gerald whipped a piece of paper from his coat and then slowly, carefully, then offered me the treaty to end a hundred's year war.

He handed me a slip of paper and I held it up slanted against the sunlight to read it. Squinting, I read the title of the article and dropped it to the ground immediately.

"No!" I said shaking before I gathered enough strength to stoop down and hold the cruel article again. But the newspaper clipping's headline read the same as before. "Female Dead in Suspected Suicide."

Helga's grave was much smaller than her mother's had been. But things were much, much worse. I was frantic because I now saw something that Gerald and Phoebe had overlooked. Helga's tombstone exactly matched a second stone. This one read "Arnold Pataki" and was dated the day before. My stomach churned over and I was nearly sick.

"Ah, Helga!" I swooned before sitting down hard. So much grief was too had to bear. Tears fell and I could not speak to Gerald or Phoebe to let them know. Instead I pointed to the third, terrible gravestone and waited for comprehension to dawn on Gerald's face. Phoebe, ever the smarter one, put two and two together first and raised her hand to her mouth with a loud gasp.

"You mean. You two..."

'Yeah," I said gruffly as the shock I was feeling began to take on tears. But mostly I felt very dizzy. And sick as hell. I now believed that both my son and the love of my life had died without me ever knowing.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault. Helga visited me once," I said. My voice sounded wooden in my ears. "Helga," I said beginning to cry at last as I related my tale to them. I told them everything. The way she had tumbled from the bus into my arms. The way she had tasted so sweet in the summer sun. The way we had hid away from everyone for days, laughing and joking. How hurt and angry I had felt when Helga had disappeared without a word. It was good that I had finally let my secrets go. Now all three of us, Gerald, Phoebe, and I grieved. If Helga was still alive I never would have let Phoebe lay a hand on me. But now all three of us clung together. The pain I felt did not feel any less. But at least there was something good in my heart, too. Friendship.

The day that followed was one of my ugliest. I went back to the graveyard, bearing flowers and alone. Phoebe and Gerald, meanwhile, researched. When raindrops for a timid rain fell, I went for a walk up and down the nearby city boulevards.

"Sid?" I said with astonishment as the bus-boy of the restaurant I was passing came into view. "What are you doing here?"

"Work," Sid said. "Odd jobs. How about you? It's been years. You look like hell, Arnold."

"I know," I volunteered. "I lost the woman I loved." Sid squinted at my bedraggled face.

"Ah, I know just what you need. Wait here." Sid spun on his heel and I waited briefly before he came back. Sid set a large, square bottle of bourbon whisky on the table top.

"Ah," I said with understanding dawning. I slipped a fifty across the table. "Thanks!"

"Don't mention it," said Sid. "No, really don't mention it," he repeated with subtle meaning. "Now get out of here." I tucked the large bottle under my shirt and stepped away toward the nearest alley. From there my feet prowled of their own accord back to the graveyard I had just left.

I had never been drunk before. At age eighteen, I could not legally buy it and I had never been able to steal even a swig from my parents table. The liquor tasted terrible to me. But I was in a bad mood. The worst. I'd never been so self-persecuting. So I sat down under the street lamplight as it flickered on and the daylight turned to dusk. It was not quite the drink Romeo had drunk when he had been told he had lost his Juliet. But it was good enough. I wished to feel as sorry for myself as possible and so I drunk until my hand could hardly bring the bottle to my lips and I slopped a mess of it over my shirt front. In the darkening graveyard, then, I saw a movement. And a ghost.

"Helga?!" I said rubbing my eyes. Certainly I was imagining things. But then when the vision did not fade I pulled myself painfully to my feet. I stumbled before a very startled woman, with one hand outstretched.

"Helga?" I queried. But I stopped cold when I saw that the one eye that regarded me beyond a mess of hair was very brown, not blue.

"Oh. Sorry, miss. You look just like someone I knew. "

The young woman had a fair-complexion and flaxen-gold hair much like Helga had. But the eye- that startled eye- was brown and not the bold cerulean Helga's had been. Besides, the small bit of face that was visible beneath that hair was heavily scarred from top to bottom. The many gashes were not unpleasant but visibly red. It was the type of injury that might take years to fade.

"Nooo! No of course not," said the voice that was a bit too... foreign... to be Helga."

I turned my head away from my watcher's sharp gaze, too much like Helga's, and brushed off the shirt of my coat. I was sure I stank like booze.

"Sorry," I said slurring. "I guess I've never looked worse. I'm not usually like this. It's my first time drinking like this. I'm just a mess right now I guess."

"Why?" came that voice that was so much like Helga's.

"Why?" I said gesturing a hand around the rainy cemetery. Drunk as I was, it swayed me off balance and I took a half-step to steady myself.

"Why?" I echoed more to myself than to her. "Because my parents kept me practically locked up for the last seven years. Because I was father to a son who died before I could even meet him. Because I failed the woman I loved," I said sitting back down on one of stairs leading to a tombstone. I lay a single, fierce eye on her. Mostly because my head was swimming and the other eye would probably start rolling in the opposite direction of the first. My watcher's face was pale. But I could tell she was relieved I had sat down so docilely. Slowly, she pried open her lips.

"What son?" she asked carefully.

"The one on the tombstone," I said before placing a hand against my chest. "Arnold Pataki. My name's Arnold so it makes sense that if Helga did have a son, it'd be mine."

"Arnold Pataki's mother was not Helga," said Helga's cousin. "It was Olga."

"What?" I said sitting as upright as I could. Which wasn't much. The booze had left my muscles half-useless. "Olga had a son?"

"Look up the birth certificate," the blond, with one brown eye peering out behind a massive wave of crimped hair, said. "I know it sounds strange but it's true. Olga was reminded of her sister's old school friend and liked the name."

"That is barely believable," I mumbled.

"I know. But no matter what is that's troubling you, I know that Helga wouldn't have wanted you to see you like this," my watcher reprimanded me. " She would have wanted to see you happy."

"You're right," I said bending forward. I braced my arms against my legs as I kept my head bowed. "Like I said, I'm not usually like this. Damn that Sid. It's fitting that his name is spelled almost like sin. I can't believe I've been taking advice from him. Thank you, miss," I said meekly. But joyless.

"Katy, call me Katy," she offered. "So what do you plan to do next?"

"I don't know," I joked. "Jump off a bridge?" The young woman in took a breath sharply.

"I'm joking, alright? I guess I'll go home, then," I decided weakly. "To the boarding house. It's a little lonely now. Empty. Helga was right, though," I said looking up at the cloudy sky as if it were a textbook on my fate. "Parents are a pain. I was better off with them."

"Don't say that, Arnoldo," my watcher remarked with deep tenderness. It took me a moment for what she had said to sink in clearly. Arnoldo... Arnoldo was the pet name Helga had called me ever since the day we had performed the play Romeo and Juliet together in the fourth grade. I shot to my feet immediately. Even if her voice was different. Even if her eye color was not the same… there were too many similarities. The raw affection in her voice was too uncanny. "Helga?" I asked the woman before me sharply. But the woman who called herself Katy had left already. Maybe Helga had bolted on me...again. She had always been a great actress. But I was too drunk to catch up with her and I was left alone in the gloom and dampening rain.

Either way, I kicked myself for embarrassing myself in front of Helga's cousin. Or maybe Helga pretending not to be Helga. I gave a short, bitter laugh at myself then decided it was time for me to find a safe spot to sleep it off for the night. But my heart was still so lonely and confused that it felt like madness. Either Helga was alive and hiding or not alive. I had a son somewhere out there or maybe no son at all. But at least some the pain had ceased to ache. I had hope.


	4. Chapter 4

I had no wish to return to the empty boarding house tonight, to be reminded of all the family I could no longer find there. But I had little choice. Gerald's apartment was uptown. If I had taken a bus to Vine Street I would have thrown up, so instead I walked until a lot of the alcohol had been purged from my veins. Then, nearly tripping, I decided that finding the keys in my pocket and unlocking the front door was too much work. A hammock in the back yard would do just fine. I fell into the hammock and slept. When I woke next, it was because Gerald was angrily shaking me. I came to with a splitting headache and groaned.

"You wouldn't answer the phone," Gerald scolded. "Damn you, Arnold. What happened to your sense of responsibility?"

"Couldn't hear it from out here. Sorry," I said holding my hands to my head. "You're right. Can I ask a favor of you? Can I stay over at your place for a while? I'm just... I'm just not okay right now, Gerald."

"Sure thing, man," said my best friend with a squeak of relief in his throat. He wrapped a single arm around my shoulder and helped me sit up.

"Phew, you stink, man," Gerald scolded me. "Go on in and take a shower and I'll call us a cab."

When we arrived at Gerald's place Phoebe made me a breakfast so late in the day it was almost lunch. I sat at the table chewing silently while Gerald called my Grandpa. Then Stinky and Sid came over to play cards with me. I heard their talk like the waves of a far-off shore.

"Arnold," said Phoebe sitting down next to me at dinner that night. "During difficult life- situations such as yours it is the usual expectation that some sort of physician-prescribed antidepressant be offered. We can make an appointment with your health-care provider tomorrow if you like."

"I'll think about it, Phoebe," I said, trying to be reasonable. But the help that I needed most came by airplane. When Grandpa arrived at the Hillwood Airport the next day, the first thing he declared was that I looked like I had been run over by a bus.

"I would have been glad to show up sooner," Grandpa declared so loud it was almost a shout. "It will be good to get away from that over-bearing son of mine. Now why don't you set down and tell me what's eating ya boy?" When Grandpa had said that, I lay my head on his shoulder on his and cried. I felt the years melt away and suddenly I was a nine-year all over again and he was the only father I had ever known.

But Grandpa had more than boundless, paternal love to offer. He had cunning, too. Two days later, when Phoebe breathlessly arrived with two copies of official documents in hand, my Grandpa was the one who would come through and change everything.

"Look," Phoebe Hyerdyhl sang with joy. "I found the birth certificate for Arnold Pataki. The stranger you met in the graveyard was indeed, correct Arnold! Olga Pataki was the mother."

"Now why is that cause for celebration?" said Gerald scrutinizing the page.

"Because," said Phoebe flipping the second document over. "While I was researching it I found a second document. One month prior to the birth certificate for Olga's son, there was another, similar certificate issued. This one to... Helga Pataki!" The news went off like a bombshell.

"What! Are you serious?" Gerald made a dive for the scrap of paper but I got to it first. I read, then reread the document, my hands shaking.

"Look , she even listed you as the father, Arnold! You're right. There is a son of yours out there. Only his name isn't Arnold. It's Alfred."

"Alfred?" I said, feeling the name like a strange taste. "Alfred? Helga's father must have named him then, because that's what he used to always call me! Alfred."

"Hm, Alfred Pataki, huh?" said Grandpa appearing unexpectedly. He tugged the document out of my hand. "Get in the car, Shortman. We have a great-grandson to find!"

I didn't know if my Grandpa still had his driver's license and I didn't ask. Instead I sank low in my seat as he explained his master plan. We stopped by every single daycare center in the city. I stayed in the car while Grandpa whined and wailed about being too old and senile to remember where he was supposed to pick up his great-grandson. Incredibly, at about two, Grandpa smiled and rapped on the Packard's door.

"Found him!" he beamed. "But now what do we do about? Grab him and run?"

"Grandpa!" I choked. "We can't do that! That's called kidnapping."

"I suppose it is. Darn it, Shortman. I guess you had better go in and see if you can find out how to contact the guardians." It was anyone's guess who the guardian would be. Olga Pataki? Big Bob? If so, it was no wonder he had hung up on me. It was growing into a messy affair that would have to be resolved through courts. But for the moment, I would be satisfied to even catch a glimpse of him. My son- Alfred Pataki. But the reunion I found when I inquired about him at the daycare center's front desk most definitely was not with my son.

"Oh, you know I can't do that, Arnold," said Lila with all the professionalism her teacher's uniform demanded. "But we can sit down and talk a little. Would you like that?" I shoved my hands in my pockets and glowered. But I was defeated. By yet another old school friend.

"All right, Lila," I said. "We'll talk."

"Great," said Lila. "There's a great little coffee shop just down here. It will take only a minute to reach it." I waited as calmly as I could for Lila chat with another teacher, then lock up her cubby desk. I paced alongside her down the sidewalk. Then, growing ever more impatient, I slumped into one of the outdoor cafe tables and glared at her.

"I'll go buy us a couple of coffees," said Lila.

"No thanks," I said. I'd stand up and wait in line for coffee only if they made me. "Let's talk. You know that son is mine, don't you? Alfred Pataki is my son."

"Well, I'd say that's highly probable," said Lila. "I mean the two of you do look oh so similar. But I'm sorry. The only legal guardian we have on file for him is Helga so I'm afraid seeing him is impossible."

"Wait a minute," I said stuttering. "H..H...Helga? You mean she is still alive?" I gripped the sides of the table so hard my knuckles turned white.

"Why of course, silly," said Lila with the small bit of nervousness she had always kept around me. As though she were convinced I was a bad boy who might display a wicked side at any time. These many years later, I could only say that Lila's perception of me is true. I am no angel even if I can look like one.

"Helga was a best friend to me for years, actually. You see, back in high school I went to party and I'm ever so afraid that someone put something in my drink that they shouldn't. Things got really complicated for me then. No one would speak to me anymore except for Helga. She stood by me when no one else would. Of course, she was pregnant at about the same time and we went through the whole thing together. Her father paid for her to go to a private school after that to help keep the whole thing a secret."

"But..." I continued to stutter. "The tombstone. The article about suicide..."

"Oh, Arnold," Lila said shaking her head at me sadly. "It wasn't Helga who killed herself," said Lila. " It was Olga."

"Olga!" I uttered, more stunned than ever.

"Well, yes," said Lila. "Olga was... I guess, ever so sensitive. Helga managed to deal with loss, failure, and rejection. But Olga just couldn't cope with it all. It was so sad. Just ever so sad. Losing her sister made life even more hard for Helga. I did the very best I could for Helga. She stayed and Alfred stayed with me for half a year before she made up with her father."

"Do you know how to get in contact with Helga?"

"I might," Lila muttered nervously. I was angry then, but I forced composure upon myself.

"Look, Lila. You know what has been going on with Helga for the last three years and I don't. What happened to her?"

"Well, I suppose it has something to do with Helga's father," Lila put delicately. "He always saw Olga as the perfect daughter. Helga was the troubled one. But then when Olga died he was... well, confused. There is something a little odd about his memory or something. Or perhaps he is in denial. But in any case he just... well... I suppose he just never used the name Helga again. And he had her name put on her sister's gravestone by mistake. From that point on he's always called Helga, Olga. He's never used the word Helga again, not once, so Helga decided to just go along with it."

"So you're telling me, that Helga changed her name to Olga?"

"Well.. yes. In a manner of speaking. Everyone in the office- she helps part-time, you know- calls her Olga One-Eye. It's her nickname I guess you might say."

"Olga One-Eye?"

"Why, yes." said Lila with a nervous laugh. "Helga lost one of her eyes a little while back. I guess you could say that's why I really, really admire her so much. You see, she was picking up Alfred from the daycare center one day when one of the other children ran out into the street. Helga was- oh, she was ever so brave and caring! She pushed the child out of the way but she was hurt so much! 'Struck at slow-speed'. Her right eye was so badly damaged that the hospital replaced it with a brown eye from an organ donor. It made her look ever-so strange and I guess she's a little embarrassed about it."

"A brown eye?" I said, startled. "That means... the woman in the graveyard was Helga! Oh, damn," I said thinking of my drunken stupor that night, "I embarrassed myself in front of her so much. No wonder she ran from me." Lila rummaged through her purse.

"Helga is my best friend. And she would be ever-so angry if she knew I was talking to you. But if you really want to ask her about Alfred then take this." I was perplexed as Lila offered me a single theatre ticket.

"I don't understand," I said.

"You will," said Lila mysteriously. "Good luck, Arnold," she said before standing up and walking away. With an oversize purse clutched against her flat chest and stout build, I wondered when the braids had went. Lila wore her hair short-cropped now. It was like she was a whole different creature.

That night, my allies and I met up for a conference. I laid the theatre ticket down on the counter for Gerald and Phoebe to see.

"Let's buy two more then," said Gerald. "We're not letting you go alone."

"It's a ballet," Phoebe said adjusting her glasses.

"Now why would Helga be going to a ballet?" Gerald asked perplexed. "She never used to be the culture-loving type."

"Oh, you'd be surprised, Gerald," Phoebe disagreed soundly. "Helga was actually an accomplished dancer in her youth. She was taking ballet lessons from a very young age. She just was very secretive about it."

"Oh, yeah," I said thinking back to the days when we had worked on the school newspaper. When Helga had started a rival newspaper, Sid had brought me photos of Helga in a ballerina costume to use as blackmail. But I had refused to print the pictures in the newspaper to get back at Helga.

"Let's find everything we can about this ballet," I said loudly. "I mean everything!"

Hillwood Theatre Company was a small dance troupe which had operated in the area for the past thirty years or so. Mostly, it was a dance studio to tutor children and teens, but they did have more than ballet teachers. There was a small touring group who regularly performed off-site on big stages in Hillwood and its neighboring cities. The ticket I had been given by Lila was a rendition of Swan Lake. As we searched the promotion material we rapidly discovered just why Lila had given me the ticket.

"The lead dancer is... HELGA?!" I said standing upright so quickly my chair tumbled over. "She's really come up in the world."

"If you ask me, she was better off as an actress," said Gerald. "Too bad about the whole eye thing, huh?" I mourned. It must have been so hard for Helga while I'd been away. Losing her eye. Losing her sister. Losing her mother. Everything. And yet through it all she had somehow still managed to come out on top. My heart swelled with pride and confidence. Helga had always been, and I guess would always be, a truly amazing person.

"I've got to see her," I muttered raking my fingers through my hair.

"We're going to see her," said Gerald. "Calm down, man, you're coming unglued."

"Sorry," I said sitting down obediently while Gerald and Phoebe fussed over me. They banished me to the couch to watch television while they made our preparations. I knew that someday they'd make good parents. Better than mine, anyway.

"Good luck, Shortman," Grandpa had said to me as the big night came. "Go get 'em. And if she doesn't cooperate we'll throw her in the back of Packard and I'll maroon you two on a desert island somewhere. Or Manitoba."

"Grandpa," I said narrowing my eyes at him although I appreciated his sense of humor.

"My hair was combed nice and neat for once and smoothed back with hair gel. I felt a little odd as Gerald and Phoebe paced around to give me a thorough inspection. Then, giving my bowtie one last adjustment, Gerald pronounced me ready to go.

"All right, into the car man," said Gerald as if I was a golden retriever instead of a young man. But I guess I deserved the treatment. I had given him and Phoebe a whole lot of trouble.

The lights were just beginning to dim when I took my seat in the third front row. Anxious, my hand gripped the hand rest of the seat so bad that my hand went numb. The orchestra begin to play, the red velvet curtain lifted high, and the first dancers took the stage. I held my breath until I was in danger of passing out.

When Act two of the play began, my eyes widened. All of the swans dancing on stage wore masks of pink feathers, all except the Swan Princess, Odette. Instead, she wore a mask of white and black-tipped feathers with as much elegance as a crown.

As Princess Odette spun and swirled on stage my eyes followed the strong curve of her backbone. The strong, fluent motion of her limbs. The expressive dip, and curl, and plea to the heavens that is both ballet...and so suitable for Helga. Because even from this distance I could tell. Odette was definitely Helga.

My eyes thirsted for my own Odette and I felt a stab of jealousy. The one dancing with Helga as her prince wasn't me. It was Curly. Full grown, he was limber and rippling with muscles.

And yet, while I watched them dance, with the air tight in my throat, I had the satisfaction of knowing that Helga remembered me. As she paused for breath at the end of the second Act, her eyes lingered on the audience. She nearly fainted when her eyes met mine.

"Gotcha now, Helga," I said folding my arms together. I would sit this out and ambush Helga at the end of the show. Only, as the third act began I came to realize something. The Odette who came on stage to warn the Prince of his mistake was not Helga. It was some other girl wearing her mask.

"Damn it, Helga," I said jumping to my feet and pressing my way out of the theatre's third row. The other theatre-goers were angry at me, but I didn't stop for apologies this time. Instead I barreled my way on a mission. I had to find the theatre's back door before Helga did.

A stage-less swan snuck out of one of the powder room's doors, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder. Helga paused to hear the applause as the third act ended and as she did, I grabbed her wrist and spun her around so that she was against my chest much as she had been when we had done the Tango. Then I removed her feathered mask.

"Helga!" I said with equal amounts of irritation and joy. "I knew it was you. You pretended to be Katy, too, didn't you?"

"May I cut in?" came a voice and Helga was spun away from me. Curly stretched his two, brawny dancer's arms out wide and Helga hid behind them. But her face remained transfixed on mine.

"Curly!" I barked. My eyes narrowed and I glared at Curly, an intense jealousy boiling up.

"Oh, Arnold!" said Helga speaking with her true voice at last. "You don't need to glare at Curly like that. He's married to Rhonda. Never mind that, what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" I asked. "Three years ago you ran out on me, Helga. You never returned my contacts. But then, when I finally find you again, you pretend to be someone else. Why are you doing this Helga? Why didn't you confide in me... and why didn't you tell me about Alfred?" At the mention of our son, Helga cringed even more behind Curly. She was older now- her face was powerfully angular. But her right eye was the same blue it had been in yesteryear.

"Why so upset, Arnold?" said Helga with sarcasm. Yet she patted her tied-back blond hair much like she had done when she was a child- flirting without intending. "Haven't you got yourself another girlfriend by now? Someone who has both eyes," she said sneering and pointing to her face.

"Helga, please! Please give me a little credit. I would want you back even if you were in a wheel chair. I've never stopped loving you since I moved away. Not once. I still love you."

"I have a son," Helga uttered, numbly. "Aren't you angry about that?"

"Are you joking?" I said. "Of course I'm not angry. I wanted that son. I wanted to have a whole family with you. Alfred is the greatest gift anyone could have given me. Only I'm dying to see him. Even once. Please, Helga, let me see him," I pleaded with my hand on my chest. But Helga only turned her back on me wearing her inscrutable expression.

"I'll think about it, okay?" she said.

"But Helga!"

"I said I'll think about it!" she whipped around to shout. Then, clenching both hands into fists Helga stomped off . She retreated through a stage door. I was left glaring into the stern eyes of Curly who, while he still kept his arms outstretched to block Helga's retreat, no longer had the eyes of the enemy. In his eyes there was now some sympathy.

"Come on, man," said Gerald in my corner. He tugged on my shoulder with urgency. "Get out of here, man. Before security throws you out." My face sorrowed as Gerald's words registered in my brain. Then, with one last resentful glare to Curly, I allowed myself to be steered by Gerald. He bullied me out of the theatre and into my Grandpa's old Packard.

"Don't be discouraged, man," said Gerald, driving. "You've said your peace and there's hope. You'll have to ride it out and wait and see." I was silent. I kept my eyes glued to the city sidewalk the whole ride home. I was in horrible, horrible, horrible absolutely monstrous mood for several weeks after that. I kept to the boarding house with Grandpa and we fixed it up together. The whole roof needed replacing and the enormity of the project kept me just busy enough to not go senile.

The old grand piano was stuffed in a shed built around it until I broke it out. In evenings I jammed on the keys remembering my Grandma. It was she who had bought the thing in the first place.

With time I began to be slightly normal. I ventured out of the house, not far, but far enough to visit Harold at his butcher's shop. Once a week Sid or Stinky dropped by to play cards, but mostly to check up on me. I was glad for their concern. Phoebe had gone back to college and Gerald came over for dinner from time to time. He did have an important job to get back to, while I was still figuring out my future.

I didn't want my parents back. I was still mad at them. I hadn't applied to any college. I walked past help-wanted posters from time to time. But so far the only plans I'd made was to relicense the Sunset Arms as a boarding house and find some tenets. I was sunk so deep into nostalgia that every time I walked past a mirror, it surprised me to see the grown-up Arnold in it.

Notwithstanding my mood, the weather was bright and beautiful. It would be another couple of months before the summer heat set in. I took my time in coming home from the local grocer's.

On one such fine, sunny day, I took a detour home not to the front of Vine Street, but behind it. Vitello's flower shop, Harold's Butcher Shop, the boarding house, and a fourth building on the street shared a small patch of communal grass. It was the vacant lot where my friends and I had played sports as kids. I didn't know if any kids played there now and I was curious.

As I rounded the corner to Gerald's field my heart stopped. I dropped the grocery bags I was carrying. There on the pitcher's mound a small boy with cornflower yellow hair was rolling a baseball around in the dust. Nearby him, a woman in a long summer dress and pink sunhat was watching him, occasionally, rolling the ball back to him when it had strayed too far.

"He-He-Helga?" I stuttered with all my broken groceries strewn around me. She turned and I saw that my guess was true. It was Helga. Helga Pataki.

"Well, you said you wanted to see him," Helga declared with the same bold brash voice she might use to assign me shortstop at a baseball game.

"Is this... Is this my son?" I stumbled though I knew it couldn't possibly be otherwise. I trembled as I softly placed my hands under my son's shoulders and then even more gently pulled him up into the free-floating sky. When he was high enough I pressed him to my chest. Alfred hung over my shoulder, his stubby locks of hair almost indistinguishable from mine. I laughed. At the same time I was hit by a scent that brought happiness to my soul. Helga smelled like strawberries. Our son together smelled like her but with a bit of mine mixed in. I felt incredible. Powerful. I had created this child.

"He's beautiful," I said stroking my son's back. He pulled back and looked at me, not with fear, but wide-eyed puzzlement. Alfred then looked toward Helga, his mother, for her reaction. But on her face was the most beautiful look of contentment I had ever seen. Within a moment Alfred had settled down and tolerated my pats between his tiny shoulders.

"Helga. He's so beautiful," I repeated, drunk in my joy. "I'd like... if you'd let me... to be in his life. Every boy needs a father." I tread carefully. After all, one never knew with a temperamental woman like Helga.

"You do, do ya?" Helga mumbled. She leant forward and placed both hands on her hips. "Well, that's that, then," Helga announced brusquely. She pointed a thumb over her shoulder to a large duffle bag and purse. "Get over there and carry my bags, Football-Head!" she demanded.

"Excuse me?" I asked, stunned.

"Well if I'm going to move in with you, Arnold, I expect you to treat me like royalty. A queen. Got that Football-Head?" said Helga leaning over and jabbing one of her fingertips toward my nose. When my mind finally wrapped around what Helga had just said, I smiled. It was my best smile- the beaming grin where all of my teeth show.

"Anything you say, Helga. Anything you say." I obediently transferred Alfred to Helga's arm and lifted her bags in a hurry. Then Helga walked hand in hand with me along to the boarding house. I prayed that I wasn't dreaming.

"I'm sorry," said Helga when she had crossed my threshold door and seated herself on the dusty living room couch. "I'm sorry for everything. And running from you in the graveyard. It wasn't at all how I'd hoped our first meeting in years would go. You frightened me, you know," explained Helga. "I was afraid you might turn out like my mother. And I was ashamed. Now I'm even uglier than I was before." Helga mourned the scarred side of her face with her fingertips. I peeled her fingers away from her cheek, then held them cupped in my hand, gently. With my other hand, I caressed the same, scarred cheek.

"You're still beautiful, Helga. You always will be. Plus, these are scars are proof of just how beautiful a person you are on the inside," I said swooping down to press a soft kiss against the faded-red scar, then nearly a dozen more small, tender kisses. Helga resisted for a moment. Then she coiled and melted in my embrace.

Life was nearly perfect after that. When I had proven to Helga I was no alcoholic, we got married. Helga and I also added a sister for Alfred to our family. Grandpa continued to live with us, of course. We took on some new renters. To make more money than our meager boarding house could provide, I took on a part-time job. Even more complicated than that, my parents visited my children and I was finally able to make peace with them. But that is a whole different story- one made of family barbecues and not so mysterious as the hunt for my invisible swan, the love of my life, Helga.


	5. Chapter 5

If you really insist on it, I'll tell you how I finally made peace with my parents. Helga's father, too, for that matter. It wasn't easy. No not by a long shot, but mostly because pride is hard to swallow.

I'll begin by telling you about my first few months with Helga. She really surprised me, showing up out of the blue and just walking in through my door like she belonged there. I guess she always had in a way, and we both knew it.

We didn't wait long for apologies either. Both of us are the passionate, emotional type when stoked. Especially by one other. Helga and I had waited just long enough for Alfred to get to sleep before we rolled into each other's arms and began making up for the lost years apart. Helga consumed me like fire. But it was more than that. It was love, too. The feel of my arms wrapped across Helga's back and around her thin waist was priceless. I soaked in her scent and enjoyed the warmth of her ankles pressed against mine for hours at a time as we simply basked in each other's presence. Often, I simply stared at my beauty and my new son in the slack-jawed, daydreamed state that first attracted Helga to me. I guess none of that has changed because we are still just as enamored with each other now.

We talked. A lot. We had been separated for too long and there were a lot of secrets. Even I had secrets. Like the four months I had taken up smoking just to make my parents angry. (Boy, had I been punished severely for that one.) Then, when Helga and I had quarreled with one another about how foolish each of us had been, we forgave each other and made love.

Which led us to talking about children. Alfred had been an accident of passion according to Helga. But he wasn't such an accident to me. Let's just say that sometimes people call Helga a little crazy because of the way she can fly off the handle. But before I finished growing up, I realized there was something a little off about me, too. Something about me finally realizing I was probably an orphan had done something to me. Something deep and damaging. I had always craved siblings but was frustrated there could be none. I had waited for my parents to return for years but they were missing. I had looked to my grandparents as role models only to realize that I would be lucky indeed if they lasted long enough to raise me to eighteen. If that failed and my parents never showed up, there was the threat that I'd be sent to an orphanage or even worse, be sent to live with my country cousin, Arnie.

Imagining a future without any family of my own around me had settled a deep, dark, wound in my soul. It was lifted only when I told myself that even if I could do nothing about the past, there was always the future. I could build a family of my own. I could have a dozen kids so that if I died or disappeared like my father had done to me, at least my children would have one another.

Helga had an opposite outlook. Better to wait, she said, since she had a career as a professional dancer and her work at Big Bob's Beepers. But then like a windstorm that suddenly reverses direction, Helga decided to put my needs first. Perhaps it was a peace offering. Perhaps it was love or her own joy of being a parent to Alfred. Most likely, it was because women tend to always want a cute daughter. In any case, we put a lot of effort into making sure we got our second child.

I liked to stroke Helga's belly. When the doctor's tests came in and we knew for certain that Helga would likely be a mother a second time, I became almost obsessed with rubbing her expanding tummy with my palm. I felt not just downright protective but possessive. Inwardly, I growled at my parents, almost daring them to interfere with my being here like they had done with Alfred. I also grit my teeth together at the fear that Helga's father, Big Bob Pataki, would come over as soon as he found out, to yell at Helga and to break my sorry skull. Most paranoid of all, I dreaded that Helga would have complications. Olga's baby had been born too prematurely to survive. I was terrified the same thing would happen to our baby, so I cooked only the best homemade, healthy meals for Helga. I genuinely made a nuisance of myself by holding her arm as she walked anywhere just in case she fell.

Perhaps it was the pain and guilt of missing out on Alfred's birth that made me a little crazy for a time. But when Helga checked in to the hospital to give birth to our first little girl, I knew it was time to pay the piper. I should have planned better, I told myself. I should have married Helga first. But I stood my ground as best as I could when Helga called her father on the phone to ask him to come down to Hillwood's hospital.

Our daughter wasn't born yet when Big Bob Pataki stomped into Hillwood Hospital. His eyes rounded when he saw me, then narrowed. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes that I did not like- like he was a bull planning the best way to gore me. I gulped and deliberated whether it was best to toss Alfred to Grandpa for safe-keeping and let myself be gored or to continue holding the adorable child in hopes that the kid would pacify the brute. Luckily, Big Bob Pataki got enough hold of himself to yell at me at the top of his lungs instead of crunching me into a paste on the floor.

"You!" he said among other things. "You bastard!"

Now, it was ironic that he had used that word because my parents had certainly been married. It was not so with my own children. They truly were bastards and I wasn't that bothered by it. Marriage was becoming a rare trait among city dwellers. Especially young and stubborn ones like myself. I stayed mute while Helga's father screamed at me. Fortunately the nurse intervened by coming out of the room to say, "it's time."

I froze with fear for a moment. I would be coming face to face with the consequences of my actions more than I had at any time. But it was a truth I had hoped to know. So I pushed aside the hospital room curtain to find Helga panting and grimacing with pain. I offered my hand to Helga and she nearly crushed every bone in it.

When it was all over my grin was as wide as my football face. I kissed Helga gently on the top of her head and kissed my new child as well. It was a girl as expected.

"Dad," Helga had said softly to her father. He made his peace with me then and shook my hand. Perhaps it was because he loved Helga. Maybe it was because the way Helga and I interacted had touched his heart. Most likely, it was because I had made him a grandfather. Twice.

Making up with my own parents was not so easy. Mostly because I was stubborn. I refused to call them and tell them anything. It was they who tried to call me because they knew where I lived and that Grandpa had gone to live with me. But when I had given them the silent treatment for a full year they eventually showed up at my own door.

I think my parents were more shocked than I was. Still, I felt like they had walked in to find me with my pants down. They didn't call, didn't write to say they'd be in town and then they walked right into the old boarding house to find me eating breakfast as a family of five, if Grandpa is included. I choked on my breakfast cereal and spat it out. But I didn't have anything nice to say.

"What are you doing here?" I said, my eyes narrowing. Helga jumped up onto her feet and placed a hand on my arm.

"It's okay, Arnold," she said, trying to be soothing. Which is, ordinarily, not her specialty. It's mine. But I wasn't ready to give up being a jerk yet.

"What do you want? A room to let? Oh, let me introduce you to Helga. She's the girl I was too attached to when I was twelve. I'm sure you've seen her before." Helga was beautiful about the whole thing. It is wonderful being in love with a girl who can be cruel, too. She wasn't the least bit ashamed of me. Instead, she watched me quietly as I played my emotions out. It was Grandpa who had to play the peacemaker.

"Now, now," he said. "Remember Arnold, family is family. Why don't you invite them to sit down and eat some breakfast. You can introduce them to your fine kids." But I was more interested in bottle feeding Cecil and having her spit half the milk out.

"Fine," I said pissed off enough to tangle with a porquipine. "My son Alfred. He's from that time I ran away for a week when I was fifteen. Then there's Cecil. She's four months." I felt a nudge of remorse then for how terrible I was acting, but I folded my arms across my chest just the same. It took a great deal of pride and confidence to look back into my father's eyes as I awaited his judgement.

"That's… extraordinary," he said. "Congratulations," although I was certain he was just stunned.

"Thanks," I said dryly, because I still resented the choices he had made for me. I was lucky to have this family now in spite of him.

"Um, how's your health, Father?" my Dad then asked, changing the subject. I was glad. Deep down I knew that he was right about me. I was reckless and juvenile. A real disappointment of a teenager. But I didn't want to hear it from him. Someone who had been missing from my life only to come back and try to reset me when I was already half-grown up.

"So," said Grandpa when some of the awkwardness had waved. "How long are you...ummm... visiting?"

"Oh, about a month," my mother said so quickly. From my father's reaction I guessed that the long stay was news to him. They'd work it out later out of my earshot like usual. But I wasn't interested in their problems. I was interested in mine. Like where I was going to put them.

"I have Ernie's old room," I relented at last. I sure wasn't going to give them my old penthouse room. I had converted that to my office. A private man cave if you will. Besides, Helga and I kept all our most expensive and fragile possessions up there out of Alfred's reach.

So far I had interviewed and found only two boarders. I was taking my time in filling up the spaces. A part of me hoped to get the old renters back- the ones I had grown up with.

The awkward thing had been to decide was where to put Helga and Alfred. The penthouse room I had enjoyed as a child was a little too cramped for all of us. Too far away from the kitchen and bathroom to be convenient. So I tore up the carpet in my grandparents old room. Helga insisted on a hardwood floor and she paid for it. I wallpapered everything in her favorite color, green, which flatteringly she admitted had always been her favorite because it reminded her of my eyes. Then we made the suite next door Alfred's own nursery.

Grandpa didn't mind the change. He was content to take up residence in one of the other rooms and I did the best could to make it comfortable for him. After all, he was ninety. The supposed family curse would claim him next year. Yet another reason I was in no hurry to take a job like most men.

No, the person who really shone in this family was Helga. Metaphorically, she wore the pants in the family and it was a little impossible to explain this to my parents. It was something that came about partly because she worked two jobs but also because she has such a strong personality while I, for my part, am content mostly to sit back and watch the world go by.

"Arnold," said Helga the second breakfast I had to share with my parents in what was now my house. "I'm sorry, honey, but I need to go to the office today. Don't forget to schedule Cecil's visit to her pediatrician and you need to go grocery shopping. Here," Helga said pulling out her wallet and flicking it open. She pulled several hundred dollars and flipped it out to me with a bold smile. "A little extra. You like miserable today, Arnoldo, so don't bother cooking. Order some Chinese takeout. Love you! Bye," Helga ended by giving me a firm kiss. I pocketed the money while my parents stared. I was still wearing an apron from cooking pancakes while Helga was dressed up in a red, two-piece business suit and matching high-heeled shoes. I knew she'd be trotting out to her brand-new, candy red Corvet and then driving to the local Beeper Emporium where she pretty much ruled as its Beeper Queen.

"Um-hum," I said a little flustered but unrepentant at our little show of role reversal. "I have dusting to do." I stalked off to find housework to do. Any housework at all so I didn't have to sit there with my parents staring at me all day. This was the real me after all. The son they had never understood.

My temper was barely dulled by their polite acceptance of things so far. It was in their eyes. I saw that they were trying their best to not be condemning. Worse, they were just so fascinated with Alfred and Cecil but I wasn't ready to share them yet. Every time my mother made a motion to get near to either of my two kids to pick them up, I rushed over to hold them instead. I was paranoid without reason. Eventually, though, when my mother asked ever so politely I recalled the manners I was raised with and said, "Yes. Please hold her carefully."

As my mother cradled Cecil against her chest and gazed softly at her granddaughter, I forgave her somewhat. Maybe I actually forgave her a whole lot. It was own angry, rebellious, teenage heart that was the real problem here. It wasn't them. It was time I made peace with them. But of course I still wasn't ready to do that yet.

I wanted them to be amazed at Helga even if they still moped around as if they were disappointed (mostly stunned) in me. I wasn't following the path they had charted for me. At all. Instead of college I was a jobless bum who lived off his girlfriend. But happy as hell.

So a week from the day they arrived in Hillwood, I drove us all to Big Bob's Beeper Emporium to pay a scheduled trip to Helga. She had her own office there, and a secretary. A little mousy girl who was not quite as good as Phoebe. I knocked on the rear office door and poked my head in to address Miss Secretary Sofie.

"Hi," I said leading my whole troop of relatives in the door. "It's Arnold. I'm here to see Helga?"

"Go on in, she's expecting you," said the woman smiling. I turned to my parents.

"Wait here a second. I'll come back for you." I was nervous and needed a moment alone. I had never visited Helga at work before and I had bought a bouquet of flowers to give her. Cautiously, I walked in through the door and smiled. As it swung closed behind me, I held the bouquet of roses aloft.

"Um, who's my favorite president?" I quipped. Helga rolled her eyes at me and swung her feet to the floor. Then, with startling swiftness, she tugged her hair pins loose and shook her hair so that it tumbled loose from a bun into one long sheet. Then she rubbed her nose against mine in a startling new expression of affection.

"Sorry. I always wanted to do that," Helga explained. Her sparkling eyes reached deep into mine so I tugged her into my arms and kissed her.

"Ah," Helga said with contentment. But in a minute she placed one hand against my chest and pushed it back to signal she was ready to end our romantic moment.

"Where's the crew?"

"Right outside the door," I said running my fingers through my hair once, then opening the door to the office. Helga stood upright and proud as my parents, Grandpa, and two children filed in.

"Mommy!" said Alfred standing upright onto his toes and leaning onto her legs to give them a hug. At four now, he still recalled the days in which Helga had kept him in a playpen next to her desk as she worked. He looked around for some of his old toys now. Helga pulled a stuffingless bear from the a drawer and handed it to him. Then she set a focused, level gaze on my parents.

"Welcome. Welcome, please sit down. Pull up a chair. Any chair, that's right. It is so good of you to visit me."

"I hope we're not interrupting your work," my father said awkwardly. But Helga gazed back at him as though he were one of her customers here about a cellphone contract.

"Not at all," said Helga. "My father owns this company and I'm pretty much manager of this city's store. No, I can spare the time, certainly. Things will only get messy if my father promotes me to director of the this region's store. I'll have to give up my ballet job when he does. I'll simply have no time for it. Although that's for the best. Professional ballet dancers don't usually last past thirty before their ankles give out. This way, I've got a backup plan."

"Ah, yes," said my mother trying her best to warm up to Helga. "Arnold said you were in the ballet." I listened to my parents make small talk with Helga and I was struck by just how good at conversation Helga had gotten. As a child she had been a skilled manipulator but had always hurt everyone's feelings with her callous words. But now, she was a bonafide saleswoman. I saw Helga's eye flicker towards me with concern. She paused.

"Hold on a sec. Sofia? Go and brew us a fresh pot of coffee. Then bring it in here, pronto. Do you like sandwiches? Or pizza? I can call for takeout if you'd like." Helga must have seen me fidgeting in my broody, mysterious way. I grasped hold of the distraction.

"Sure."

My parents and Helga were still talking when the delivery pizza came in. We devoured it in the office. Then, with thoughtful silence, we all drove home. I waited for Helga anxiously. As if in anticipation of my dark mood, she came home a half hour early. She peeled off her shoes and still fully clothed, lay down in bed. I lay down too and wrapped my arms around her. Her warmth and scent were calming.

"Bad day, Arnoldo?" Helga asked stroking my hair. I yanked her a little tighter so I could press against her.

"Yeah. But you're here now so it's perfect."

"You know," said Helga softly. "Maybe we should go to the park tomorrow. Some real quality time."

"Or quantity time," I scoffed. It was a private joke that had begun with the Pataki's and the odd tales Helga had to tell about growing up. But it also expressed what I felt was true here.

"Now, now. When I was a little nine year old girl you were always telling me to give others a chance. I don't need to tell you you know better, Arnoldo." With her face scrunched up like that, Helga looked extra cute.

"Alright," I said giving her an extra kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

The flavor of pride is nasty and bitter. I woke with it in my mouth the next day as I realized that Helga had convinced me to spend the whole day with my parents in the park with my own kids and her and Grandpa. I found breakfast that day unusually hard to swallow. It didn't help that I had a lot of things on my mind. Like where to find three more renters. Like whether or not I would or could ever get a job or go to college like most of my classmates. Or that I still had the engagement ring I had bought for Helga four years ago in my wallet. I had kept it on my person every day for the last four years but was too scared to give it to her since she had bolted on me the last time I had talked of marriage.

It seemed things were endlessly complicated between us. Helga liked to play hard to get and so I was stuck between my fears that I would come home to the boarding house one day and find it empty and my fantasies that Helga and I would grow old together in this same house. And during this time of crisis in my life, my parents were here to complicate it further. I knew if I didn't at least put on a good show for Helga, my girlfriend and mother of my two children would be precariously angry with me.

But I could thank the lucky stars for my Grandpa. Yes, the angels must have left him here on earth to help me because he was there in my face first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee and a shish-kabob stick which had belonged to his own father. Grandpa and I had used it once to pry open the locket with my picture in it which, it turns out, had really been Helga's. Since Helga had moved in with me I had got her to spill a great deal of the secrets she kept and I had been allowed to read the locket's inscription. "Arnold, my soul, in my heart forever." It was those lines that I repeated to myself when I was feeling particularly nervous about my future.

It wasn't like I had exactly planned to have kids outside of marriage. No, originally my dreams had been to go to college and become a scientist like my parents, then get married at twenty-five. Or later. But then my parents had come back into my life and puberty had hit, big time. I was angry and resentful to be ripped away from Helga on purpose when were just friends with a deep and lasting crush for each other.

The day that I had lost Helga had started out ordinary. I was twelve, then, and Helga and I had gone out to play baseball at Gerald's field. But there was a sad truth we were facing. Most of the children we played baseball with were now old enough to join the minor league teams and so they had left Gerald's field for the large parks. On that day, when even my best friend Gerald failed to show, Helga and I had exchanged a single, miserable look. Because if we didn't have our excuse for hanging out together, if we did spend time together, it would be dating. Helga had coughed.

"Well, I suppose I should go home and study," said Helga. "Gotta catch up to old Pheobes." I debated whether that was possible. Helga was brilliant, but Pheobe is a studioholic genius.

"Wait Helga," I had said desperate for her to not turn and walk away from me. Perhaps forever if she never overcame her shyness. "See you at school?"

"Yeah, sure Arnold," said Helga jamming her hands in her pockets.

I had gone home in a miserable state. I brooded as I usually did, with the music turned loud and my couch flipped out so I could rest on it and look up at the clouds roll across the window on my roof. I didn't know what to do. Helga had told me she had loved me once. But then we had both pretended that nothing had happened. So we both still didn't know how the other felt. Except miserable. Yes, miserable, miserable, miserable.

I skipped dinner and dropped off to sleep finally. I woke up at two in the morning to a pattering rain. I watched the thunder roll by then stood up. Something just did not feel right to me. I was restless. So when the rain had stopped I looked out my fire escape to see something glittering and gold in the lamplight. And a bit of pink fabric.

I froze upright, my hands gripping the window ledge stoutly. Then I jumped down to the fire escape as fast as possible because it was Helga. She must have been walking on it again for her mysterious reasons then slipped and fell. A locket with my picture on it lay sprawled beside her hand. But she was unmoving and silent.

"Helga, Helga!" I cried with increasing worry. She did not seem to be bleeding anywhere and when she moaned I was grateful. But the rain had left her soaking and as she came to in my arms, she shuddered violently.

"Where...am..I… Arnold?" she said as her teeth chattered.

"Right here," I had said, my heart aching to see her like this. "You're right here with me. Come on, let's get you inside."

My arms were incredibly muscular from near daily sports, so it was not a difficulty for me to lift Helga bridle style and drag her onto my roof and from there, down onto my bed. Okay, so it was difficult but I managed. Helga was quivering with hypothermia from being out all night in the rain. So I turned the heat dial in my room up to its highest setting and did the only reasonable thing.

"Helga, you've got to get out of those wet clothes," I had said to her as unsuggestively as possible.

"Huh?" Helga had gasped, pulling my bed covers all around her shivering form.

"Here are some of my clothes. They're dry. Don't worry, I won't peek. I'll stand in the closet," I had said throwing her the first set of my pajamas I could find. The plain and blue ones.

"You..had..better..not," said Helga between rattles between her teeth. When I exited the closet a few minutes later, I was relieved to find that she was wearing the blue pajamas. All her water-logged clothes were now making a sizeable puddle on the carpet.

"Helga, are you alright?" I said placing hand on Helga's shoulder. But she was cold as ice.

"No, of course I'm not…. all right!" she managed despite shivering. I sighed. My next words would be tough.

"Helga, there is a way to warm you up. It's survival training. Grandpa told me about it. If you'll just let me and not get angry…" I sighed deeply, certain I was about to get a beating. "Helga, let me hold you."

"N...no!" Helga squeaked turning. My eyes narrowed at her.

"Helga, you're freezing to death! You told me once that you love me and I refuse to let you keep on pretending at a time like this. See?" I said pulling the locket I found on the fire escape next to Helga. It was the heart-shaped locket with my photo in it that I had caught Helga looking at on several occasions. "You will let me hold you!"

Having me hand her 'secret' locket back to her numbed Helga's tongue so well she did not utter so much a squeak of protest as I peeled back all my bed blankets and lay her down to one side. I then took the other side of the bed for myself and rolled all the covers back up around us and took Helga in my arms. I was too worried about Helga to consider the moment to be romantic. She shook fiercely from the cold and it was a full half hour before her icy skin, so unpleasant to touch, began to glow with warmth again. I kept my chest pressed against hers the whole time, conducting heat. I was relieved when the shuddering stopped and turned to shivers, then weak sneezes. Helga sat up and tried to press herself away.

"I should go home," Helga said, her mind in disarray. But I worried for her yet.

"You should eat something. I'll dry your clothes. Wait here and I'll be back." So I snuck downstairs to the boarding house kitchen to make Helga a bowl of soup. I went down to the basement, too, and threw Helga's pink dress and unmentionables in the dryer. When both were done, I crept up the dark boarding house stair to my room.

Helga must have still been feeling terrible because she had not tried to go home. Instead, she huddled with all my covers bunched around her. I set her clothes down on my desk then approached her with the tray of soup. Her eyes glittered strangely in the soft moonlight coming through the window and a now cloudless sky. They were softer and calmer than I had ever remembered them. I did not say a word. Neither one of us said a word as I spoonfed a bowl of tomato soup to her. Then, I lay the tray aside and curled up on the other side of the bed again. Helga did not resist as I simply held her. We looked up at the sky through my window together until we fell asleep.

It was in the morning after that my whole life fell apart. As I recall, it was a school day so when my alarm clock rang, my father was at the door looking in to make sure I had heard it. He saw two blondes and went ballistic.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" I tried to explain to my parents again and again. But to them my story seemed far fetched. They looked at each other with eyes that told me they did not doubt for a second that I was a liar.

"Now, now," Grandpa had said vouching for me. "There's no need to get hysterical. I say we should take Arnold for his word. Besides, even if he was lying, he's a strong, healthy boy. It's only a matter of time before he'd start a romance with someone. I always told him ten. And the boy's twelve now!" But my parents had not been pleased with Grandpa's declaration.

"We forbid you to ever speak to that girl again," they had said with solidarity. "In light of all that's happened, we've decided. We're moving in with your mother's relatives next week. Now, I know this all must be upsetting to you. Why don't you just not go to school today?"

"No!" I said sick with horror at what I was hearing. "Didn't you hear me? I didn't do anything! I didn't do anything! Why don't you believe me?"

"We're only doing what's best for you, sweetie," my mother had said with finality. My father echoed her words. But all I could hear in my head were the words I had never imagined I would someday feel. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

I didn't just lose Helga on that day. I lost everyone and everything. Except Grandpa. He decided to pull up stakes and move to the Dakotas with us until my father found a university faculty position elsewhere. We moved to a city even larger than Hillwood had been. But it felt empty of people to me. I had been cut off from everyone I cared about. I did call and explain everything to Gerald. But I was never able to stand in front of my class to say goodbye. I never heard my name on Helga's lips again until the day I turned fifteen.

When I turned fifteen, she floated down the Greyhound bus steps like a dream. She was everything I longed for. Everything I missed. When I had taken her hand in mine and found her flesh real I had never wanted anything to part us again. Especially my parents. It was foolish and selfish what I did. But I was Romeo and she was my Juliet.

So now I was nineteen and unmarried with two kids. But Helga was beside me and for that I refused to be ashamed. Instead, I fought against the storm of the words I had felt so long ago. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" I began by clearing my throat.

"So, Dad," I said smiling weakly. "Grandpa, Helga, the kids, and I are all going to the park for a barbecue. Did you want to come with us?"

"Of course, son," my Dad had said in that faraway voice he now used with me.

"Oh good," I said nervously. "You and Mom stay here, then. I'll be back in a hour. I'm just going to go down to Harold's and buy some meat."

"I'll come with you," said my father standing up. He kept his hands shoved into his pockets as we both strolled slowly down Vine Street.

"You know," he said casually as we reached the butcher shop which Harold, my old school friend, and his wife now ran. "Back when I was a kid this place was owned by the Green family. Whatever happened to them?"

"Mr. Green's son turned out to be a vegetarian," I said looking in through the glass. "Different people I guess. With different dreams. It happens."

"So it does," said my father, deep in thought.

It was good to see Harold again. I saw him at least once a week, actually. I was a frequent patron to the butcher shop. I saw a lot of Stinky, Sid, and Gerald too, since we played cards often. I took comfort in that thought. I did have friends.

My father and I walked back from the butcher shop with enough meat for five barbeques. I looked up at him as we walked. My father was strong and tall and I remembered how much I had admired him for this when I first met him. I turned out half a foot shorter than he was so I'd never match his height. But somehow I was okay with this. I was just tall enough for Helga and that was all that mattered.

"Look, Dad," I said. "It's nice you've come to visit. It's even, well, nicer that you've been good with my kids. I know it's a bit of a shock to you. I don't expect you to approve, either. Just, thank you, for not starting an argument around them."

"An argument?" my father said dragging a hand restlessly through his hair. "I just don't know how I could have an argument. What's done is done. I suppose it's my fault for not being there soon enough to give you the talk."

"I've had the talk from lots of people, Dad," I said my eyes narrowing. "I know what I've done."

"So," said my Dad letting out a breath that was like a whistle. "What I'm curious about is your future? Do you...have plans for it?"

"Well, it'd be good if I did know," I said ruffling a hand through my own hair. It shocked me all of a sudden that perhaps I had learned this gesture from him. But I continued speaking.

"When I think about the future.. well there's a lot of things I don't know. I want to stay at the boarding house forever, I guess. I'm looking for more tenants so it makes a bit of money. I don't think I'll think about college or jobs until Alfred and Cecil are old enough to go to grade school. I mean, Helga has two jobs. She's too busy to take care of children."

"You really need to marry that girl," my father said softly. I tried not to rage out at him for the comment. He had acted on the opposite opinion seven years ago and ruined my life.

"It's not so easy to marry, Helga," I said with a scowl. "Helga has things however she wants. If she's ready for that I think she'd tell me. I don't want to scare her away again," I said, the bitterness rising in my voice again.

My face was one great big scowl again when I arrived at the garage where Grandpa was loading an ice chest. He saw my face and pulled me aside immediately for one of his unique pep talks. I was grateful for that. When the rest of the family poured out of the boarding house to walk to the park together, I was able to get lost in the crowd. I linked my fingers with Helga's and I was fine enough to get through the day.

We ate a lot of barbecues that month. At times I was able to forget. I was able to heal. Yet it was definitely the case that my parents and I were uneasy with one another. But we didn't forgive or understand each other. That didn't happen until Grandpa fell and broke his second hip and Helga accidentally ate strawberries- and Helga is allergic to strawberries.

ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO!


	7. Chapter 7

Sugar-coated cereal with the little prizes in the box had always been my favorite breakfast food when I was a kid. It was Alfred's, too, so we went through nearly an entire box of the chewy, crunchy bits every day. Milk, too. Oh, was I ever going to the local grocer's to pick up another jug of milk!

One morning, when I stood in line at the grocers where Gerald's mother still worked, I was particularly aware of the odd stare a few mothers with their kids strapped in their grocery carts were giving me. They were gossiping about me clearly and Gerald's mother shook her head softly and gave me a comforting smile.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," she said because she had been a true friend to both Helga and me over the course of our lives. Plus she was my best friend's mother. "You're a good kid. They just don't know you and what's happening with you all."

"But it might make things difficult for Alfred," I said thinking that in three years it would be elementary school for my son. I spoke out loud because Gerald's mother was the one person who could really understand. Grocery shopping had become my own little therapy session. "But I don't think that would help me sell the idea of marriage to Helga."

"She'll drop you hints," said Helga's old co-worker and mentor. "Or maybe even tell you directly. Helga isn't one to beat around the bush."

"No she isn't," I said as I pocketed my cash receipt and picking up my plastic shopping bag of groceries.

"Give it time. Helga needs to be comfortable with your parents. Even more than you do. Especially after what happened."

"Right," I said thinking glumly of our encounter when we were twelve. My parents had disapproved of Helga. They had yelled at the two of us and thrown her out of our house. Forever. Now even I had to admit that was a lot to forgive.

The irony was that Helga and I were now living together, unmarried, in the same house where all of this had started. I owned the Sunset Arms now and it was my rule. Helga could and would live there for as long as I drew breath. But now that my parents had come here to make peace my life had become increasingly complicated.

Doubtless, Helga was the love of my life. The two children we had together were my greatest treasures. I would give anything to be with them forever- and that was likely, provided my parents did not scare Helga off.

"Hello," said Helga standing in her nightdress and bathroom in the kitchen when I got back home. "Welcome back, honey." She offered me a cup of sweetened coffee and I held it to one side of my body with one hand while we embraced and kissed.

"Has Alfred woken up yet?" I asked trying not to slosh the coffee all over the kitchen table. I sat down and took a sip of it.

"Not yet," said Helga. Her soft hand rested on my shoulder and I gloried on it. I especially savored it when she played with a few unruly locks of my hair before embracing me from behind once, then sat down at the table with me. I lay my hand on top of hers. Ah, Helga! I'd love her forever, I thought.

"So," announced Helga because it was she who decided the family's schedule. I was the one who babysat the kids and did the cleaning. "I have dance recital today. I was thinking..."

"Another barbeque?" I said glumly. Helga gave my hand a firm squeeze.

"No, Arnoldo. You should bring everyone to sit in at the practice. No one will mind. Rhonda and Curly want to meet the family at lunch, anyway. Now's the perfect time to do it."

"Rhonda?" I said the coffee cup freezing halfway to my lips. "Curly?" These fellow classmates had married young mostly because their parents were both from rich and respected families. Money tends to take marriage very seriously. It's not the love that matters so much as the marriage is proper and sound. At least on the surface. Curly's cash had proven irresistible to Rhonda. Plus there was some strange sort of chemistry between them. But it was awkward for me to be around them. When I was a child, I almost felt certain that Rhonda had been sweet on me when she wasn't calling me poor. Then there was Curly. There was no cause for me to be jealous but I hated the fact that he was a professional dancer who worked with Helga. I couldn't stand seeing anyone dance with Helga but me.

"If you say so, Helga," I said burying my pout by taking a shot of coffee. I refilled the cup and resigned myself to a miserable afternoon.

At least it wasn't another barbecue. I hated the awkward silence, the forced conversation as my parents and I tried to make conversation. Dad was all about teaching history and archeology now instead of exploring. His last expedition had ended up making him go missing for eight full years. During that time, Grandma and Grandpa had raised me. Then I had to found a way to go to San Lorenzo and been reunited with my parents. But my new life with my parents in it had become a nightmare when they had decided to tear me away from Helga and move from Hillwood.

Helga was now nineteen, same as I, and a professional ballet dancer. At noon, I loaded up the Packard with a baby bag and strapped Cecil into her car seat. Then I drove my parents and two kids to the theatre house where Helga and her co-workers were rehearsing for their next production. Grandpa had to stay home because there weren't enough seats in the car.

I carried Cecil in a little plastic bassinet with one hand. With my other, I held Alfred's hand firmly. There were many rows of plastic red theatre seats- all empty because there wasn't a show. Alfred scurried over to one of the red chairs and chose it for himself. Then he chose another, then another, until he had worked himself down the aisles near enough to see his mother on the stage.

"Hi Mommy!" he said waving a hand and spinning around in his chair. I imagined he might like to take up ballet, too. He liked piano. Helga gave her son a wave and blew him a kiss before she resumed her practice with the dance troop.

My own mother and father walked slowly into the large theatre and sat down. I had better things to watch so I sat down and watched Helga spin and twirl and pose on the stage. It wasn't Swan Lake this time but something more abstract. Not that I completely understood theatre arts, anyway.

I bottle fed Cecil until I was bored and calm enough to speak to my parents again. I patted Cecil on the back to burp her and moved slowly over to where they were seated.

"Fun, huh? Dancing," I said. "Dancing must be fun. Not that I know ballet," I stumbled. Grandma had taught me nearly every dance under the sun. But not ballet. That was Helga's art.

"Yes, it looks lovely, sweetie," said my mother smiling. She and my father pretty much were unsocial people so dancing was not their thing. Being obsessed with research and each other was. It was for this reason that they just could not understand the damage they had done to me. I was the neighborhood. The neighborhood was my blood. My friends and social connections with nearly everyone around me were how I defined myself. And I was a pretty damn good dancer.

"Yes, dancing is fun," I said making a mental note to take Helga dancing as soon as possible. I didn't want Curly to get all her dance time. I was just grateful that in this theatre production, another girl had been chosen for lead instead of Helga.

We watched the practice for two hours before it finally ended. Now we could all go to lunch as planned. Curly showed up beside the stage along with Rhonda. She grasped my hand by the wrist and shook it.

"Arnold, darling, how are you doing?" she said in her preppy, upper-class, debutant sort of way. Marrying into another rich family and spending lots of Curly's yearly income had done nothing to diminish her overbearing pride.

"Nice to see you again, too, Rhonda," I said awkwardly. But I was glad. She had been a reliable member of my baseball team as a kid and a good friend.

"So glad to see you and Helga finally got together," Rhonda announced loudly. "I always knew it. You and Helga were so meant for each other." I grinned broadly then. It was like Rhonda had sunk a hole in one against my parents who stood silently at the edge of the crowd.

When greetings were over I opened my menu and looked for a sandwich to eat. Rhonda did most of the talking at lunch. We said our goodbyes and promised to meet Rhonda and Curly again for coffee and breakfast pastries.

It had started out as a good afternoon. But when we returned to the boarding house I discovered I really wished I had taken Grandpa with us. He was ninety-one and frail. Sometime while we had been out he had fallen and broken his hip. He had not been able to get up in all that time.

"Oh God! Grandpa!" I said calling an ambulance.

OK I LIED. THIS IS GOING TO TAKE ME WAY MORE THAN ONE CHAPTER TO COMPLETE. SHEESH. FALLS OVER IN WEARINESS.


	8. Chapter 8

Do you know how it is how when you think you have enough problems in life another one comes along and makes things astonishingly worse? That was the kind of day I was having when Grandpa broke his second hip. His first one had been replaced by plastic many years ago and it was clear now that he had needed a second one.

I was horrified to the core of my soul to find Grandpa laying on the living room floor. He was weak and in obvious pain but we could not try to move him. His hip hurt that bad. So we waited for the ambulance with trepidation. Two medics came and strapped him into a carrier, then loaded him into the back of an ambulance. My father got to ride with him. Grandpa was his Dad after all. I realized I was pacing and took a deep breath. Helga lent me her hand and clutched it. It was time we followed after my Dad and Grandpa to the hospital in the Packard but I was a little shaky.

"I'll drive," said Helga snatching the car keys from me. I was glad. We had Alfred and Cecil to take with us, after all. Plus my mother.

When I got to the hospital to see Grandpa my stomach churned. They had hooked him up to all kinds of IVs and I feared that something else was seriously wrong with him. But the attending nurse took the time to explain his condition to all of us. Grandpa had been a bit dehydrated and gotten dizzy. It was a common condition with old folks, she said, who need to drink a lot more frequently. She recommended that Grandpa be "encouraged" to drink some water every two to three hours. But Grandpa still needed his hip repaired so he was in for a lengthy hospital stay.

Some of the cold dread that filled my heart abated. After all, Grandpa had always believed in a family curse that no one in his line could live past the age of ninety-one. He was ninety now and always supposing that he would croak any minute. I had feared for a moment that he had actually turned out to be right.

"Yeah, they all croaked at ninety-one because they probably all fell and broke their hip," said Helga with a sarcastic grin. She squeezed my hand tightly. "Don't worry, Arnoldo, the doctor said he's fine otherwise. Just a damaged old fossil."

"Yeah," I said trying to take her words of cheer to heart, as sarcastic as they were. We had brought Alfred and Cecil along with us, so Helga took them to sit in a small waiting room that doubled as a play area. It had lots and lots toys. Alfred was quite pleased with it.

"I'm going to sit with Grandpa," I said heading back towards his sick room. My mother and father were there and they turned and gave me a long stare. It was the stare that felt like they were looking at me from a faraway ocean. They just didn't know what to do with a son like me.

"Grandpa?" I said addressing him from the doorway of the room. I swallowed down my tears of relief. He was awake. Grandpa looked pretty okay despite everything.

"Son," said my father standing up on his own two feet. "Don't worry, your grandfather is doing well. I can tell this been difficult for you. Maybe you should go back to the waiting room and rest." But I astonished myself with a fierce, savage, carnal, animal, "No!"

I found myself with my hand wrapped around my father's wrist shoving him and his wall away. I was on the verge of snapping. I forced my hand to let go of my father and dropped it, breathing heavily.

"No," I repeated but there was no hope for it. I was now unglued. "No," I said. "Phil is my real father. You're just a stranger to me. You..won't..stop..me!" I ground out striding across the room and taking the chair nearest to Grandpa. If they wanted me to leave they'd have to throw me out by force.

"Now, now, Shortman," said Grandpa with rare sternness towards me. "You're not being fair. After all, I think I did a much better job raising you. I wasn't such a good father the first time. Plus your personality is a bit more like mine. Your father, well," said Grandpa scratching his chin, "I don't know where he gets it from. Must be your Grandmother's side of the family. Well, the point of is you should go easy on your father. He is doing the best he can after all."

"Okay, Grandpa," I said feeling rebuked.

"Well, Shortman, sit beside me and comfort me in my last hours of life."

"Grandpa," I said rolling my eyes and thinking, 'not this again'. "The doctor says you're healthy except for a broken hip."

"Well, it's good to have a trial run for the real thing," said Grandpa with the senile humor that my father did not understand and which sometimes drove me crazy.

"Anything you say, Grandpa," I said since that at least, felt true.

"Well, now's as good a time as any to spill the family secrets," said Grandpa. "Like, remember how I told you that story about how I single-handedly won the Battle of the Bulge and brought about victory over the Germans in World War II? Remember what I told you about stopping at a farmhouse cottage with a girl named Monique? Well, turns out you're not my only Grandson, Shortman. There's nine of them in the south of France. If you don't believe me check out the postcard in the green lockbox in my office. That's why you shouldn't beat yourself up too much, Shortman. Having children outside of marriage isn't a shame, Arnold. It's a family tradition!"

"Grandpa!" I said feeling thoroughly scandalized. Although I made a promise to myself to look for the postcard as soon as possible.

"But I'm still your favorite, right?"

"Absolutely, positivoulety. And since you're my favorite, I want to make one last request of you. You see Arnold, I can't believe your parents didn't name you Phil- after me! So I want you to promise me before I join the choir invisible that you'll name my next grandson, Phil. It's a good name, don't you think?"

"Grandpa," I said pulling my hand away from his pleading reach. "I'd have to ask Helga about that. Besides, what's to say it wouldn't turn out to be a girl?" Grandpa reflected on it for only a moment, his eyes rolling up towards his bare head before he came up with his own, sudden, wacky inspiration.

"You could name her Phil, anyway! She'll get used to it!"

"Grandpa!" I said. But a small smile had worked its way back onto my face as Grandpa had teased me. "Maybe I should wait in the waiting room after all," I said giving my Grandfather a kiss on his bare head. "I'm glad you're feeling better.

"Don't sweat it," Grandpa said with his usual good humor. So I exited the room and ended up pacing around with my phone. I called Gerald and he put me on the line to speak with Phoebe.

"I'm definitely losing it," I said over the phone to Phoebe. "I mean, for a second there, I was almost angry enough to punch my father," I said stressing how ridiculous I had acted. The cruel words I had said replayed in my head: 'You're just a stranger to me.' Phoebe breathed out an anxious, exasperated sigh at her end of the phone line.

"Arnold, at this point, I definitely recommend some professional psychological counseling."

"Maybe," I said noncommittally as I roughed up my hair with one hand.

"If you act now, you can probably get on a new patient's list for an appointment in the next eight months."

"Eight months?" I said staring at the phone, my eyes rounded and my jaw slack. "That's a long time to wait for an appointment isn't it?"

"Can't be helped," Phoebe explained on with little reaction to my feeling. It was her academic monotone. "Today's mental health services are painfully beleaguered with large numbers of patients and few providers."

"Right," I said thoroughly unconvinced that Phoebe's advice would be the manner in which I made peace with my parents. "I guess I'm on my own here. Thanks for trying, Phoebe."

"You could start with a simple apology," Phoebe squeaked. I sighed. I knew apologizing was the right thing to do, too.

"I'll take them to a restaurant. But then what?" I said resting my hand on the bridge of my nose. "How do I keep this from happening again?"

"Well, you can start small. Like asking what your father's favorite color is."

"Okay, Phoebe." I sighed. "I'll try it your way. But that reminds me. You and Helga haven't spoken to each other for years." The phone fell silent.

"R.. ," Phoebe stuttered eventually. My face became happier again.

"Well, maybe it's time YOU and Helga made up. Gerald and you and Helga and I could go on one of those double dates. I'll talk to Helga about it."

"Maybe," Phoebe blurted quickly. "Only I can't just now. I'm too busy with schoolwork."

"Well, just let me know when. It was nice talking to you. Bye."

I knew that the rift between Phoebe and Helga would be healed eventually. I felt it in my bones. The two had been inseparable as children and now that Helga had me back she had no cause to be jealous of her former best friend, Phoebe. I just hoped the two girls would be able to forgive whatever horrible things they had said to one another before parting. But for now I had my own apology to give.

"Look, Mom, Dad." I said before we left the quiet corridors of the hospital. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk. Let me make it up to you by taking you out to dinner."

"You don't have to do that, son," my Mom said with an awkward smile. I could tell we were both trying here.

"I know I don't have to," I said scratching the back of my neck. "I want to. Besides it will help me remember the lesson if I'm out a bit of pocket money." My parents both smiled and I had hope that we could all get along after all.

We all pretended I had done nothing horrible as we exited the hospital. On the surface, we were all one big happy family. No tensions, no grudges. Our visit to Grandpa had extended into supper hours so I got out my wallet to pay for a meal for all of us.

I looked around the business district near the hospital. There were a number of restaurants to choose from. Bagel shops. Bars. Sandwich Bistro's. My eyes settled on a sign that perked my interest best.

"El Patio's," I said twisting my head around. "I thought they closed years ago!"

"Just moved across town, I guess," Helga speculated while bouncing Cecil up and and down gently to keep the bored and tired baby from dissolving into a caterwaul. It was way past her bedtime for Cecil. Even Alfred was misbehaving due to being out and about town too long for someone his age.

I recognized the name El Patio, alright. Mr. Hyunh, one of the old boarders at the Sunset Arms, had been the head chef at a restaurant with the same name three blocks away. An anxious knot formed in the pit of my stomach. But as Gerald would say, I needed to 'stay cool'.

"Nothing's wrong," I fibbed to Helga when she noticed I was tense again. We sat down at the largest table in the restaurant. I scanned the walls for decorations. In the old El Patio Restaurant, Mr. Hyunh had kept a photograph of me, Grandpa, Grandma, and all the fellow boarders on the wall. We were his treasured family. No body was broken up more than Mr. Hyunh when my parents had decided to move me away from Hillwood. I had been like a nephew to him. One of the waitresses moved around the table pouring water into the water glasses from her pitcher. I cleared my throat reluctantly.

"Uh, Miss?" I said testing my daring. "Is there a Mr. Hyunh here? If there is, can you please tell him hello from Arnold? Arnold Shortman?"

The waitress didn't favor me with a reply. Instead she stared back at me- the confusion of a seventeen-year old working her first, low-paying job and having to deal with the ridiculous requests of countless customers. Nonetheless, she disappeared back into the rear of the restaurants along with her water pitcher. I was astonished when twenty-minutes later, four waitresses headed for our table instead of one, all bearing platters filled with food. Then the head chef of the restaurant rushed out of the kitchen.

"Oh, Arnold!" said Mr. Hyunh. I had to stop and process for a minute that his Vietnamese accent had disappeared. His American English was flawless now. But it was him. "I can't believe it is really you! I have missed you so much! It hurt so much when you moved away! You were always like a nephew to me!"

Mr. Hyunh was an emotional guy, so I did not blush that he shouted or that he took off his glasses to wipe tears from his eyes. Instead, I stood up and embraced my old adopted Uncle.

"I'm really glad to see you again, Mr. Hyunh. I never thought you'd still be in the area," I said thinking back to the days when Grandpa had closed down the Sunset Arms to follow me to Dakota.

"Oh, we did not close," said Mr. Hyunh following my line of thinking. "We moved to a much bigger restaurant. We make more money being close to the hospital. Here, you eat!" said Mr. Hyunh gesturing to the tremendous diversity of food that took up every square inch of the table. "It is all free! You can come here, anytime! It's all free!"

"Mr. Hyunh, you really don't need to do that," I said embarrassed but grateful. I picked up my fork.

"Here," said Mr. Hyunh grinning ear to ear. "My address. My telephone number. You can visit me anytime. Where are you, Arnold? Are you visiting town?"

"Actually…" I said dragging the truth out. "I own the Sunset Arms now. I've moved back there. With my family. Mr. Hyunh, I'd like you to meet Cecil. And Alfred," I said reaching over to Helga's lap and wiggling Cecil's dainty little fingers. Mr. Hyunh's overexcitable nature kicked up a whole degree.

"Oh my gosh, Arnold!" said Mr. Hyunh practically breathless. "Are these your children? They are so cute!"

"Yeah. I guess they kind of are," I said in a much more modest tone. But I wore a proud and tranquil grin as my old friend stuttered over my children.

"Oh, Arnold!" Mr Hyunh said waving a pasta spoon over his head so that a bit of tomato sauce splattered all over his chef's hat. "I guess this makes me a great uncle!"

"It guess it does," I relented, thinking. "Say Mr. Hyunh. Would you like to come over on Saturday. My family and I have been having a barbecue on Saturdays and I thought, maybe you'd like to come to the next one!"

"Would I?" Mr. Hyunh exclaimed. "Would I? Of course I will!" He clasped my hands and shook them both thoroughly.

"Well," I said sitting down although I could have chatted with Mr. Hyunh for hours. "I'll eat my food now." My stomach still grumbled although my heart now felt fuller than it had been in years.

"Yes, yes. You eat," said Mr. Hyunh still smiling. "I have to go back to work in the restaurant. But you eat- it's all free! It's all free!" My dear uncle gestured triumphantly, then walked back into the rear of the restaurant. The spectacle of our reunion had disturbed the other diners but the rumors slowly died away. I dug my fork into my plate and enjoyed my meal. In fact, there was no steak and black bean burrito I have enjoyed more.

"Well, that worked out!" exclaimed Helga. "Who'd have thunk you'd run into an old friend, eh?" She was too calm to be awestruck but near to it. My parents fidgeted nervously at the other end of the table.

"That man. He seems a bit emotional," my mother judged with a frown. 'Ah yes', I thought to myself folding my napkin after I had wiped my mouth. I had forgotten about that. The old boarders had terrified my parents. They had been eager to move partly because their son had adopted such strange role models in their absence.

"Yes, he is emotional. And a Vietnamese immigrant," I said refilling my plate. "And," I said stressing my last words most, "he is a good man."

"Arnold," my mother said leaning across the dinner table. "Your father and I have come to realize that our move was too sudden. We shouldn't have separated you from all your friends."

"You shouldn't have separated me from ANY of my friends," I uttered tensing up. I felt the old rage of past wounds building up inside me so I excused myself to the men's room to lean against one of the marble sinks. I gazed deep into a reflection of myself.

Who was I? My head was the same foot-ball shape that Helga had teased me about as a child. Below it, my shoulders had grown broad and strong so that it seemed well-proportioned. My legs had shot out not as much as some would hope, but enough so that I was not the absolute shortest male around Hillwood. When I moved, there was a catlike grace, not the clumsiness of my father or the adventurous dash of my mother. My eyes were the green emerald of the jungle I had been born in and no one else could match eyes like mine. My hair was luxurious, springy, and rogue. Forever I was trying to tame it by comb and hair gel but within few hours of inattention, it rose like fields of golden hay towards a warm summer sun. I gazed into the mirror at El Patio and said it out loud. "Helga loves me for what I am, and so do I."

But there was a Darker Arnold there, too. It haunted the corners of my eyes. The deep hurt. The brooding. My occasional whiplash rage. Insecurity, rebellion, and even lust. As I matured into a man I realized there were bad parts of even my heart; my heart, when others in my childhood had called me a saint. But I had had my share of ill-behaved misadventures with Gerald. He and Helga both knew I had never been an angel. Yet, I needed to be one now. I needed to control the rage that my misunderstandings with my parents invoked.

I took a deep breath. I forced myself to remember that most of the people I had lost in my life had now come back- even Mr. Hyunh. There were even new people in my life to be grateful for- my son Alfred and daughter Cecil. When I had calmed enough that I could fake a smile if I had to, I returned to the table. The waitresses were clearing plates. I carried an enormous box of takeout food in one arm and Alfred in the other.

We found the old, green Packard in the parking lot before sunset. I was glad to get home. The kids were already asleep in our arms so Helga and I tiptoed to the nursery next to our room and tucked them both in for bed. Then, worn with the strain of the day we retired for the night. I waited, seated at the edge of the bed while Helga changed into a pink nightdress.

"Rough day?" asked Helga.

"You don't know the half of it," I said before explaining what I had said to my father. Coming off the tip of my tongue, it was even more shocking how cruel I had been. But Helga was never one to shrink from cruel words and deeds. Instead, she wrapped her arms around my head and kissed my neck in several places.

"There, there, Arnold," she consoled me. "We all misbehave sometimes. Anything else you want to spill?"

"Well," I said fidgeting my fingers along the smooth of her back as I held her. I coughed to clear my throat. "Well...ah...yeah! Grandpa gave me his 'last dying request'. He expects me to name our next kid Phil." Helga frowned.

"Does it look like I'm pregnant here?"

"Well...no," I said fearing that I had gotten Helga angry. "It's just that if we had a third kid, it'd kind of be a nice thing to do to humor him. If it's a boy that is. Not that we have to," I amended before Helga turned wild and fierce as a cat with water poured on it.

"Oh, curse that Grandpa!" said Helga. "Now look what's he's done! I know you, Arnold Shortman! Once you've got 'baby' stuck in your mind there's no way to shake it out! I'll tell you what, Football-Head, when I turn twenty-one, we'll work on making baby number three. But after that, I'm working full time at Big Bob's Beepers. After all, if I'm going to be in charge of the whole Big Bob Beeper's Emporium someday, I have to step up! And moreover," Helga's voice lifted a subtle octave, "we really should…." Helga's eyes grew round and she paused.

"Really should what?"

"Never mind, it's nothing," said Helga laying down across the bed and turning so that I could hold her if I moved to.

Nevermind? Nevermind?! That was exactly the kind of word to be feared. I had learned over the years that it was a giant red flag to that Helga was hiding something. Like her feelings.

"Yikes!" I thought with a jolt. Was that what Gerald's mother had been talking about?! Was that a hint? My mind reeled. There was so much to do. I couldn't just rip the ring out of my wallet, could I? That was too lame. I had to call a restaurant. I had to hire a violinist. Or do something at least that was unique and special and.. well romantic. Maybe I could take her to Dinoland and propose to her on the end of her favorite coaster. Or give it to her in the tunnel of love. Or maybe I should take Helga down to the beach for a picnic and and swim. So many possibilities swam through my mind. I froze up.

"Something, wrong, honey?" Helga asked and I stuttered.

"Nnnn...nothing's wrong!" I leant down and pulled the covers up around me and Helga. I would have to worry about marrying Helga tomorrow. There was the woman I had to tend to first. She was expecting her goodnight kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

Fate is a funny, fickle thing. When I was a kid, all sorts of strange (almost paranormal events), well, just happened- like the way Helga had found my missing hat. Like the way we always crashed into each other around corners as if drawn by opposing magnetic properties. Or how when my Grandpa took us to stay at the beach, Helga and her family had been staying at the same duplex. It was downright uncanny how Helga would always be around the corner any time of night or day. It was especially, well, almost creepy how an egg we were responsible for over a weekend hatched or how Rhonda's marriage predictor had said I would marry Helga not once, but a hundred and ten times. You would think that all this pressure from fate would make it easy for me to marry Helga but oh, no! The day I tried to propose to Helga for the first time was uncanny only in its disaster.

The day began bright with joy. I woke with Helga snuggled up against my shoulder. I stretched, then scooted far away enough to gaze lovingly at her face as she slept. There is a beautiful smile there that makes my heart warm every time I see it. When Helga woke up, I smiled, then left the bed. It was my hope that Helga would take her time getting up because I was expecting the doorbell any minute.

When the doorbell did ring, I was almost too excited to figure out how to turn a doorknob. I fumbled it open and there stood Mrs. Johanssen, my best friend's mother. As a child, I had stayed over at her house a million plus one times. I knew without a fragment of a doubt that she would make an excellent babysitter.

"Here we are!" said Mrs. Johanssen, beaming. I started when I spotted my best friend, Gerald, lent against the lowest stoop.

"Gerald, you came, too?"

"I came to...uh... wish you good luck on your big day," Gerald said awkwardly. He unfolded his arms and prowled up the steps to offer our secret thumbshake. I had never forgot it.

"Good luck, brother," said Gerald giving me a hug before wiping a solitary tear from his eye.

"Thanks," I said. I meant it.

"I'm here for you, man." Gerald said. "No matter what's the answer."

"Hey don't jinx it!" I laughed. Maybe it would have been better if I hadn't.

"Look at you!" said Mrs. Johanssen enveloping me in a warm maternal hug. I lowered my head with a smile as my best friend's mother dropped a kiss in the middle of the top of my head. Then she stepped back and tilted my chin up with a finger to get a good look at me.

"You are a good, strong, brave boy!" Mrs. Johanssen declared of me. "Don't ever let anyone tell you different! Now get out there and make us proud!"

"I will Mrs. Johanssen," I said with a soft smile. I was touched. When I had been growing up I had latched onto all sorts of role models and Mrs. Johanssen had been one of them. She was especially a role model now since she had been so supportive of me when I had returned to Vine Street. To hear her say good words of me made me feel ten miles tall.

"Hello?" came my real mother's voice from down the hall. I turned swiftly towards her stricken face and felt guilty all over again. Here I was being open and kind with a replacement mother. But my real mother, well, I had just never let her in. I wouldn't have stepped into her arms for a hug like that. My tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth. But Mrs. Johanssen knew what to do.

"Hello," she said shifting her purse and holding a hand out. "I'm Mrs. Johanssen. Let's all go into the kitchen and I can tell you about your boy…" I tensed, then relaxed as the voices rumbled out of my earshot. I was dazed. Mrs. Johanssen had proved she knew the answer to everything once again. Gerald made a fist and got my attention by hitting my shoulder with it. He had that annoying smirk.

"Uncle Gerald's got it covered, man!" he said. "Go on and get moving with your date!"

"Oh. Right!" I said peeling myself free from my reveries. "Helga…"

I crept down the hall and entered our bedroom. Helga was still lounging in bed in her little pink nightdress. She snored. I rolled my eyes at my beloved, then nudged her. When she stirred and rubbed her eyes I gave a brief tickle to her ribs.

"Wake up, darling," I said playfully, hoping she was in a good mood. "I've got a surprise for you today!"

"What? Huh? Um?" Helga muttered, perplexed. I sat down on the bed next to her and gave Helga a quick kiss.

"Mrs. Johanssen is here to babysit for us. Let's go out on a date today!" I declared. "We haven't been on an outing together, just you and me, for a long time!" I explained. It was more than true. My relationship with Helga hadn't followed an ordinary course. We had skipped dating entirely if you don't count the week we had run away together. After that, there had been a young child in our lives so we didn't exactly schedule romantic dinners. As Stinky would say, we were, "just a couple of homebodies."

"What?" said Helga still dazed from sleep. "Okay." I grinned and waited for Helga to get ready.

I had big plans for today. The first step was to take Helga out to breakfast. On the corner of one of the streets was a Cafe named Bigal's. It was so near to my house that I had walked past it a million times at night with a flashlight. As a kid, I had never had cause to go out for breakfast, much. My Grandma had always made me breakfast. Or I had eaten the tasty sugar-coated cereal I was so fond of. But now, as an adult I had begun appreciate the flavor of coffee and so Bigal Cafe had begun to have certain appeal to it. I had stopped by Bigal's a few times to discover they served not just coffee, but some baked goods and a few breakfast sandwiches. Best of all, it had large windows facing the street ideal for soaking in the warm morning sunlight as it filtered through the warming glass. It was a perfect place to take Helga out for a special, romantic treat.

"Wait here, Helga," I said, taking Helga by the arm and guiding her to a sunny, comfortable-looking booth inside. "I'll go get us breakfast. What would you like?"

"Oh," Helga said thinking it over at length. "See if you can get me a donut, I guess. You know, one the pink-frosted kind."

"With heart-shaped sprinkles?" I asked giving her an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. "This isn't Dolly's Donuts so you may have to settle with an ordinary donut. Is that okay?"

"It's fine, Arnold," Helga replied with one elbow up on the counter top and her chin rested on top of her fist. With a thoughtful expression scrawled across her face, Helga looked out into the morning beyond.

Parting from my lovely lady, I stepped to the counter to place my order. It was two coffees, two donuts, two blueberry muffins, and a single bagel. When all had been rung up and paid for, I moved the plastic serving tray with my food to the other end of the long serving counter, away from the cashier and her line. But I did not return to Helga yet. I had big plans for this morning. Instead, I opened a small lunch sack I had brought in under one arm. From it, I removed a half dozen roses trimmed so that no stem remained and a number of Hershey kisses. I place these all around the muffins and Helga's white-frosted donut. Finally, I took a velvet box out of my pocket. Delirious with excitement, I placed the velvet box with an engagement ring in it the very center of the tray so that Helga would see it the moment I set our breakfast down in front of her. My grin was very broad. I just knew she would accept. But my heart hammered in my chest just the same.

It was as I carried the tray bearing both a ring and food towards Helga that something awful happened. As I passed the large cashier's line a bunch of musicians carrying too much equipment with them entered the coffee shop. The crowd jostled one another too fiercely. A broad-shouldered man from the edge of this crowd stumbled into me and knocked my elbow. All of my our coffee and breakfast food landed in a mess on the cafe floor.

"Oh no!" tore free from my lips. I lent down and quickly snatched up the velvet box with the engagement ring in it. I stuffed it safely in my pocket just in time to hear one of the people who worked there say, "Are you okay, sir? Do you need help?" My face must have looked pretty miserable.

"No, I'm okay," I said trying to brush the upset expression off my face. "I'm not injured or anything. Thanks for asking. What a mess, though," I said looking at the floor.

"Don't worry about it! I'll get a mop. Stephen here will get you a replacement for your food. It's the least we can do," the cashier said with a perky voice.

""Um, thanks," I said trying to make the best of it. After all, the day was young yet. I had all day to try to ask Helga to marry me.

Helga and I ate our new breakfast quickly. I was particularly eager to leave the site of my recent failure behind. The broad sidewalks of the town were much more inviting. It was time for me to show Helga her next surprise.

"I'm planning on taking you to Dinoworld today!" I said folding her arm in mine. I knew Helga had a lifetime pass to the place but it had been years since she had used it. I hadn't bothered to ask where it had gone to. I had brought money for her pass instead.

"Dinoworld?" asked Helga. "I think the last time I went to Dinoworld was when I was eleven. Don't you want to go to a museum or something for our date, Arnoldo?"

"Nah," I said. "We can go to the museum afterwards you like. Or next date. I think Dinoworld would be fun. It will bring back childhood memories. Good ones!" I promoted. I was eager to take Helga to Dinoworld because I was falling back on my propose-on-the-rollercoaster plan.

Helga claims to have been sneaking into Dinoworld at age five. I don't doubt that it was possible. She is one independent-minded individual. But my memories of Dinoworld were mostly of Helga, Gerald, Stinky, Sid, Harold and me going to the park as one great big group. Sure there was the time I had been stuck on the Scarosaurus-Rex coaster with Eugene but the memories I had were mostly good ones. I had even become friends with the park's owner through a strange twist of fate and ridden the rides him. But mostly I recalled Helga spinning in the teacups beside me and 'accidentally' sliding against me as the ride jostled us. I recalled how much she liked to buy food from the vending stalls and would stand on one foot eating it, one hand braced against the side of the vending stall. I remembered how her chin had looked with cotton candy stuck to it.

Helga had never been scared of even the worst of the amusement park rides. Back then, she had been paired in my car or behind it many times. Only this time we would ride together on purpose- my arm wrapped around her shoulder. I took a deep breath of joy.

"Which ride would you like to go to first?" I said smiling my very best to Helga. She reflected on it for a good long minute, then finally looked up.

"Let's get a map first. It's been a long time, Arnold. We should look up all the new rides."

"Sure," I said nabbing Helga's hand so that I we could stroll together as a couple. My heart felt light.

It was a glorious morning. There were a ton of new rides to try out so we jogged from one attraction to the next. All the time I kept my hand in Helga's. On some of the rides I was able to hold her snugly against me with one arm. In a reciprocal mood, Helga rested her head lightly against my shoulder.

After a light lunch of two chili-cheese dogs, a Yahoo soda, and a soft pretzel Helga and I were running low on attractions we had not seen. Some of the fervor of coming here had lulled so I said to myself, "it's time."

"You liked the Turbo-Tricerotop Coaster a whole lot, right Helga?" I said throwing my Yahoo soda bottle away. "Let's go on it one more time!"

"Sure," said Helga. She offered her hand to mine and I pulled her along with me through the crowd.

I managed to get us a seat right in the front. Our ride was flawless. When we rolled into the station at the end of the ride my stomach was turning from something other than the the ride. I pulled a velvet box out of my pocket and Helga stared curiously at it. I was just preparing to kneel when another unanticipated disaster happened.

"Mr. Bunny, Mr. Bunny, Mr. Bunny, Mr. Bunny!" a yellow-shirted girl screamed. She flung her favorite toy animal all over the place. The scene had caught my attention so I simply stared at the girl's tantrum until one of the toy's stuffed feet whipped up into the air so fast and so hard that it boomeranged the ring box right out of my hand and into the now-departing coaster.

"Damn it!" I cursed under my breath. "Helga...sweetie...darling? Would you like to get another snack? There's something I left on the roller coaster. I'm just going to stay here a few minutes to look for it." Helga's very expressive brow was lifted to one side so I knew that my odd behavior was not all too convincing. But she shrugged and, mercifully, went along with my suggestion.

"Alright, Arnoldo. If you say so," she said. "I'll buy you a cotton candy." I breathed a sigh of relief and went to ask the ride attendant to fish my ring from their ride when it next came in.

I began to worry that fate was conspiring against me. But I was determined to try again. It was getting to be about one in the afternoon but I wasn't about to give up yet.

"There's someplace else I wanted to check out today, Helga," I declared. "Let's go there!"

"Where is it?" said my lady-love with some suspicion.

"It's a surprise!" I said faking a smile.

I had chosen another site we shared in common from our childhood- the train station. When Helga and I had been children, Grandpa had spun us a tale about a haunted train engine. Full of myself, I had dared Helga to go with me and Gerald to look for it. We had crawled through a gap in the boards of a rundown old station filled with cobwebs and screeching bats.

Years after that, the railroad station had been demolished. In its place now stood a modern, two-story travel center from which both buses and trains departed. It looked and functioned a lot like an airport. In the upper floor, there was a gift shop and a small restaurant with wide, open-air balconies from which to 'enjoy' the scene of trains wandering in and out of town. I wanted to take Helga there. This time I pulled the ring box out of my pocket before we even had time to order drinks.

"Helga, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," I said. Helga had been looking in the other direction for a waiter but her head whipped around at my words. To my horror, it seemed I was having a jinxed day, for at that exact moment an errant bottle-cork boomeranged around the restaurant and shot the ring box out of my hand, over the balcony rail, and onto the railroad tracks. I heard the squeal of train wheels along the track as I looked down.

"Aw, crap!" I whispered. "Ah, Helga? I'm just going to go to the restrooms. I'll be right back!" I said before hustling down to the first floor of the station. I found the ring, alright but I didn't like what I found. It had landed squarely on the railroad tracks and been flattened. I hopped the track to retrieve it. A passing train had run right over the ring, box and all. The metal was flattened almost as thin as a sheet of paper.

"Either I have bad karma, Eugene's luck, or really, REALLY, bad tidings for my future," I fretted. I placed a hand on forehead to steady myself. My nerves were shot but I had to put on a good face for Helga so I returned upstairs. I ordered a light salad but I could hardly eat a bite.

"Something wrong, Arnoldo?" said Helga leaning across the table towards me. She peered deep into my eyes and lay her hand on top of mine. "You don't look well."

"I'm not feeling well all of a sudden," I gave as my excuse. "Maybe we should head home."

I looked so horrible that Helga made me take an asprin and lie down. But while she was occupied watching movies with Alfred, I snuck out. I went straight to the nearest jeweler's shop. It was the same old man who used to clean Grandpa's pocket watch every year. I felt it was my own funeral as I lay the demolished ring on his countertop.

"Hm," said the gray-haired jeweler taking out a small, circular monocle and fixing it to his eye to study the wreck closer. "It's just as well that this happened. You say you bought this for your girl four years ago? It's likely her finger has gone up a ring size since then."

"I hadn't thought of that," I said with a jolt. Either way, this day would have ended poorly.

"Besides that, whoever made this ring sold you poor workmanship."

"What?!" I exclaimed a bit too loudly.

"This IS a gold ring," the jeweler said. "But if somebody told you this is 14k, they're lying. It's really only 18k. There is quite a bit of supplemental metal in it. If you agree to it, young man, we can fix this ring. But we have to melt it down to begin with!"

"Okay," I said with a sigh. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, I'm going to have to melt the ring down in a crucible and separate out some of the impurities," said the jewelry. "Then I'll have pour it into a mold, cool it, and polish it. There'll have to be a new setting for stones. I can set more diamonds into the design, if you like. Tell me about this woman you're planning to marry," he added with shrewd interest. I sighed and tried to explain Helga to him.

"She's a dancer now," I said within my long monologue. "She did Swan Lake a little while back."

"So you'd say she's a graceful sort of person?" the jeweler said rubbing his chin. "Graceful, graceful. I think I can do something with that. Come back tomorrow at three o'clock and I'll have your ring ready for you, son. You can count on me."

I was almost too nervous to return the next day. What if my bad luck followed me like it had yesterday? Yet I felt immensely better when the local jeweler waved me into his shop with a smile.

"There she is," said the jeweler unlocking his glass case with a key. He removed a small paper box with tissue matted inside. Helga's ring hid in the paper, only this time it was larger and had more diamonds adorning either side of it, like a pair of swan's wings.

"It.. it looks great!" I said, allowing myself a smile.

"Rings are like marriage," the jeweler boasted of his art. The ring in his hand glimmered as he turned it under the lamplight. "Every now and again, they need to be melted to purest metal and reforged to make them stronger."

"It's perfect," I said, overjoyed. It was a much better ring than it had originally had been.

"All it needs is its good luck polish," said the jeweler with a wink. "Wait here!" He took a little tin canister out and shook its dusty contents on the newly recast ring. Then he rubbed the engagement ring all over with a cloth.

"With this ring, you'll be lucky, son, I guarantee it. It's got my charm in it." The jeweler finished with another wink. "Oh and Arnold? That's two-hundred ninety-nine for your bill." I was in no mood to argue. It might remove his blessing. Obediently, I got out my wallet.

"Whatcha doing there, grandson?" asked Grandpa a few minutes later as I tried to sneak back in the house, unseen, through the kitchen door. I nearly hit myself on the door frame as I started. "Got yourself another woman then?"

"No! Our course not Grandpa!" I said quickly sitting down at the kitchen table across from him. Grandpa had been confined to sitting pretty much all day while he healed up. Puzzle pieces lay strewn all over the kitchen table. I picked up one of the paper pegs and held it up to my eye to get a better look at what he was working on.

"No, well, you see I'm having problems. I tried giving an engagement ring to Helga yesterday," I said, "but I didn't even get a chance to ask her. I kept dropping the ring everywhere."

"Oh? The big question's got you gutless?"

"Grandpa!" I said narrowing my eyes. "I am not gutless!"

"Nobody's saying you don't have reason to be," said Grandpa ignoring me. "Marriage isn't fun all the time, either. Why, there were periods of my time married to Pookie when we couldn't stand one another and I wanted nothing more than to escape off into the Himalayas with an elegant, female tour guide! We loved each other but we had our spats, too. But after all the fighting and clawing and thinking up bad names for one another you know what I found?"

"What Grandpa?" I said setting down the puzzle piece in my hand.

"I found out that when we fought our marriage wasn't exactly the same as it had been. But when we worked out all our differences, it was stronger and that makes the hard times easier to bear. Does that makes sense, Shortman?"

"I guess so, Grandpa."

"Besides that, there are all the good times to look forward to, too. I got some of the best things in my life out of marriage. Company for seventy years of my life and the best grandson I could ever ask for!"

"Uh, that's really nice of you to say that, Grandpa."

"Who says I was talking about you?" I grimaced.

"Just kidding, Shortman. "You are my greatest-ever-grandson. Every day I see you I have reason to be grateful for all I've had. You have an idea of what's that like, too," Grandpa continued. He pointed to a family photo I had hung in the kitchen a few months back. "You have Alfred and Cecil and your girlfriend, Helga. You just need to do what you can to make sure they stay with you forever."

"I know, Grandpa," I said standing up to look at the photograph up close. "I will, I promise."

"So did my little pep talk cheer you up?"

"A little," I said with a wane smile as I folded my hands behind my back and continued to stare at my family portrait.

But I has missed my opportunity to ask for the moment. Helga had to work in the morning and I was supposed to be sick in bed. So I pretended I had only gone out to the corner grocers and back. It was a half-truth. I had picked up a few little things. But the groceries were really all a cover for my trip to the jewelers.

When the morning came my headache was real. I washed down two asprin with a glass of water. When breakfast was cooked I stacked it all on the stove and lay down on the couch. The stress of the last two days was really getting to me. As I lay there, I felt a hand brush back my bangs. Helga lay her cool, slender palm against my forehead.

"Ah, Daddy must not be feeling well, today, Alfred," Helga guessed with beautiful affection pouring through her words like melody in music. "Why don't you come to office with me today?"

"I'm okay, Helga," I protested sitting up. "Just a bit tired. I can still watch Alfred!"

"Are you sure?" Helga said pursing her lips.

"I'm sure."

"Well, just to be sure I'll try to be home by four."

"Sure."

It was an office day for Helga. I practiced playing the piano with Alfred despite my headache. I fed Cecil a bit of rice porridge although mostly she just spit it out on me. Then, I read the paper wondering if it was time for me to go out in the world and find a job. At the very least, I should place an advertisement in the paper looking for two more tenants. It was as I sat there with one leg propped up on my knee and my arm propped against that and my chin in my hand (a very thoughtful expression) that my mother came down for her share of the breakfast. She and my Dad were still visiting in hopes we could all warm up to one another.

"So. How are things going today, son?" she asked me leaning over so that her eyes could meet mine despite my slouch. I shifted back into an ordinary sitting position and held her gaze.

"I'm just staying home today," I said simply. "How about you? What are you doing?"

"I thought I might do a little bit of baking," my mother, Stella, said. "You work so hard, son. While I'm here, I'd like to make the housework a little bit easier for you."

"You don't have to Mom," I said. "No, really. But if you want to bake something go ahead."

"Great," my mother Stella said with a heart-warming smile. I buried my nose in the paper again because I was somewhat immune to it.

A few hours later the kitchen was filled with a warming, delicious smell. Mom had made some kind of cupcake for our dessert tonight. I gave my mother a rare smile. It seemed like we were all starting to get along after all.

"Look what I've got!" Helga's voice echoed from the entrance hallway of the house at fifteen minutes past four. "Dinner!"

"Um, that's really nice, Helga," I said trying to peer into her jumbo-sized take out bag. "What is it?"

"Hot-buttered-lobster tails, coleslaw, rolls, and sausage-gravy," she boasted with a wide grin. I blinked.

"That sounds really...expensive," I said awkwardly.

"Aren't you glad I'm your sugar-momma?" she said cozying up for her welcome back kiss. It was an awkward truth. Helga had ten times the fortune I did- even if I did own a boarding house.

It was a bit too early to eat dinner so I put it in the fridge to reheat later. When dinner time came, we all sat down and for once we were all in a friendly mood. The feast Helga had brought had helped with that. But so had the cupcakes my mother had made. Grandpa was especially greedy with the lobster and I chuckled at him for gulping down as many lobster tails as he could get his hands on. Alfred was more interested in eating the rolls slathered in sausage gravy.

My stomach was full and I was feeling pretty good about things when misfortune struck again. Helga picked up one of the cupcakes and bit into it. "Yum," she said. "Pretty good. Vanilla, right? What are these chewy bits?"

"They're vanilla and strawberry cupcakes," my mother said, beaming. "Do you like them?"

"S...SS...STRAWBERRY?" Helga uttered clutching her throat. "I ALREADY ATE ONE OF THEM!" I dropped my fork in horror. Helga had a very rare, severe allergy to strawberries.

"You gotta be kidding me!" I said fumbling for the phone. Things had gone further downhill. Before the end of the day, I would start yet another argument with my parents, but at least Helga and me would finally get engaged!


	10. Chapter 10

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A few plates crashed and cracked on the floor, then more as I emptied the platter full of muffins into the trashcan. We didn't know yet if Alfred or Cecil were allergic to strawberries but I wasn't taking any chances. It was bad enough that Helga had eaten one.

"Arnold!" Helga fretted. She buried her face against my chest. With one arm I held the phone and the other I held Helga in a one-armed hug. I stroked her long blond hair with one hand.

"Don't worry, Helga. I've called an ambulance. They'll be here soon."

"Son, what's going on?" said my Dad bravely. His own face was empathetic. But I scowled fiercely back.

"What's going on?" I shouted, fed up. "I can't believe this! It's bad enough you come here and make trouble for Helga, but then you've got to poison her, too!"

"Son, what is going on?" my mother said quietly. I dragged my hand through my hair and forced myself to calm down.

"Helga is allergic to strawberries. When she was a little girl they made her pass out." Mom's eyes went round wide with understanding. She rushed to the kitchen cupboard and pulled out a box of tea.

"Here. Get the hottest water you can from the sink and make some chamomile tea for Helga. It will help keep her throat open."

"Chamomile?" I said looking at the box in my hand. My mother was a specialist in medicinal herbs. So she would know what she talking about.

"I'll be right back, Arnold. Sit tight," my mother said before dashing down the hall. I was puzzled when she came back with a paper box.

"Here," said my mother tossing over the package. "It has an antihistamine in it. It should help keep her breathing passages open. She should sit down in case she feels dizzy or faints."

"I'll drink it," said Helga surprising me. "Give me the tea. Arnold?"

"What?" I stuttered for of all the people in the world she was the one who should have been the most angry.

"Look, Arnold," Helga said snatching the cup from my hand. "I'll drink it! I know you've been hurt but at some point you've got to let go or you'll only keep hurting! I know. I don't think your parents are bad people!"

"Helga!" I replied with real astonishment. Helga sipped the tea, then wrapped her arms around me.

"I need to sit down."

"Helga," I said picking her up and carrying her bridal style. I sat down on the couch with her draped across my lap. "How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy," Helga replied as we waited for the ambulance. I gulped. At its worst, people with Helga's allergy could go into shock or even have a heart attack. But so far she had remained conscious. All that bothered Helga was her head and her throat. Helga sipped her tea. I kept her hand clutched in mine until I heard the ambulance's wail.

The ambulance medics gave Helga a shot of epinephrine. Theoretically, this would stop her allergic reaction. But they took Helga to the hospital to be looked at by a doctor, just in case. I breathed in a deep sigh of relief. I put my hands in my pockets and rolled back on my toes as the ambulance drove away. I dialed Mrs. Johanssen to babysit.

"Arnold," said my father holding my mother against his side as I set down the phone. Both looked repentive. "You should know that your mother and I would never harm Helga on purpose!" I paused. I tried to be calm. But my hands balled up into fists anyway.

"Yeah, I know. I can't blame you. But you know, what? I do! I'm sick of it! I'd fed up with you ruining everything in my life!" I yelled, the angry teenager coming out. "So what if you messed up today? You've been messing up for like...forever! First you disappear on me for years! Then you come back and ground me for everything! You think everything I say or do is because of bad parenting! Well, I say, let me make mistakes! I'm not just a person in need of guidance! I'm not just a copy of you! And I'm not just a name. I'm Arnold! I'm an individual. I may not live and breath the same as you but I'm real in the minds of everyone I love- the people who love me. I can't or won't let you place me wherever is convenient for you! You will listen to what I have to say! And I'm staying right here in Hillwood, forever. And I'm marrying Helga not because I shamed her but because I love her and I always have!" My parents cringed from the volley of words I slung at them, but they exchanged a tender look between them with their fingers intertwined.

"We're so glad you finally are telling us how you feel, son. I mean… Arnold," my father spoke slowly from where he and my mother stood. "But think about it from our perspective. We came back and your principal had a long report on you. You were a young boy and you would go out all night. You were friends with children who were bullies. You came home with black eyes sometimes from school. The neighborhood was dangerous- we heard you had been mugged several times!"

"Yeah? So what?" I asked pulling a Helga.

"That's not the half of it!" my father pleaded for understanding. "We read in the paper all about the 'save the neighborhood' incident! Crashing a bus in the middle of the night! We looked it up and found you had even been arrested once!" My mind flickered back to that time. Gerald and I had been playing hookey and mistaken for the "Yahoo soda bandits".

"So, I got arrested. Everyone in Hillwood has."

"That's precisely the attitude that worries us, Arnold! Your Grandpa told us over and over you were a happy child, but that wasn't what we were seeing. You are… well, easily depressed. Your attention gets.. spacy. You get attached to people whom might not be safe and people who abuse you. From what we saw of Helga, she called you a lot of names."

"Like Football-Head?" I asked. "I got used to it. I'm stronger than that. It was like a game Helga would play because it is a rough neighborhood and Helga is tough. I came to realize 'Football-head' is a pet name."

"You were very attached to her," said my father, "and no matter if you didn't do anything... even if you had acted honorably, your mother and I felt twelve was too young for you to have a girlfriend."

"See?! That's what I'm talking about!" The anger I felt inside fluffed. "Always doubting me! I may have still been just a kid but I was a man inside! I am capable of knowing right and wrong for myself! I'm just not the 'goodie-two-shoes' you wanted me to be. And you know what? I'm not going to be either!" I said not even mentioning that they were hysterical about the word, "party."

I was waiting for Gerald's mother to arrive still but I was as angry as a caged wolf. I walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. I ran the tap and used my hand to splash cold water all over my face. I had said a mouthful. But I was angry enough to not care a bit. Letting it all out had even been a little helpful because I had always been too polite to tell my parents up front how much I resented their overparenting. I had enjoyed a lot of freedom before they came along. It had been too much a leash for me to bear when they decided to reform me from a street kid into Princeton material.

I washed a lot of my anger down the drain and then I remembered Alfred. "He must be terrified!" I remembered before unlocking the door and rushing to my son. My mother Stella was knelt beside him and I felt a stab of relief that someone in the family had been minding him- even if we had our disagreements.

"Hey there," I said to Alfred picking up my son. "You okay?"

"I want Mommy." he said and I swallowed hard. I felt guilty. I had argued in front of him instead of drying his tears.

"Mommy's going to be alright," I promised. "She's had her medicine. But Daddy's got to go and get her back from the doctor's office so you wait here with Mrs. Johanssen, alright?" I kissed Alfred when he gave a small nod. He may have been young but he was sharp.

I was a little surprised when Gerald showed up with his mother. He did have work today. But instead of going to work, Gerald shoved my back with his palms to get me walking faster towards the Packard. His mother would watch Cecil and Alfred for us.

"Come on, man," Gerald demanded. "I'm here to make sure you don't lose it. Let's get cruisin'."

Gerald sat in Helga's normal seat while my parents sat in the back. I could understand what Gerald had implied about me. My ill temper still smoldered deep inside of me like a molten volcano.

Helga sat upright and was looking mostly well in one of the emergency rooms. The doctor declared he would keep her a few hours for observation but Helga had not gone into shock. My deepest fears had not come true. The worst we had to fear for now was a rash.

"Whew," I said as Helga sat bored in the emergency room bed. Recent events considered, it was the most peaceful half-hour I had ever spent inside an emergency room. I held Helga's hand for a good long while, just glad to be able to still do so. Then, when Helga flipped on the television to watch Court TV, I got bored and looked through her things on a table nearby.

"Arnold, why are you looking in my purse?" Helga asked with a shrill voice I did not pick up on. My hands closed on something odd and instinctively I pulled it out of the purse. A ring box? Why would she have one of those? Unless…

"Oh, Arnold!" said Helga fluffing up to her wider and tougher self. She glared at me with both hands on her hips. "That was supposed to be a surprise! Oh well, there's no hope for it now! Give me that!" Helga said snatching the trinket from my hand.

"Helga, you're supposed to be in bed!" I protested.

"Shut up!" my beloved snapped before kneeling down on one knee before me and snapping the ring case open. Inside lay a single golden band with a dash of five, smoldering rubies in a long line.

"Marry me, Football-head!" Helga demanded like a threat- like if I didn't she would pummel me like she did other kids back in our grade-school days.

"Helga," I said taking a step back from her enraged eyes. I was reminded of the time she had flung herself onto me at FTI. "I was supposed to ask you!" Helga caught one of my hands and held it fast.

"I know all about that, darling," she said with an amorous purr. "I overheard you talking to Grandpa the other night. You should know by now that sneaking around corners and eavesdropping are my specialty."

"I wasn't being gutless!" I protested, my face turning pink as I recalled that conversation. "I was just ill-fated. I've still got the ring in my pocket!"

"I'm already down on one knee, Bucko," Helga taunted. Feeling beaten, I relaxed my hand in her grip.

"Okay, but if I wear your ring, you've got to wear my ring, too? Okay?"

"So you will marry me?" Helga said her eyes gleaming with triumph. She tilted her head and cupped her ear with one hand. "I want to hear, Arnold, say it!" I rolled my eyes but smiled.

"Yes, Helga, I will marry you. Are you happy now?"

"Great," said Helga sliding the ring on my hand. I turned my head at the sound of the door. Gerald stood framed in the doorway for a moment before he slammed the door shut again.

"What's going on? What's the holdup?" came Grandpa's voice from beyond the door.

"Oh, Arnold's being unusual again. The boy just continues to defy expectation!" I lifted my eyebrow a little at Gerald's comment.

"Can I give you the ring now?" I said. We both stood up. So I reached into my pocket for my wallet and the little compartment that held Helga's ring.

"Sure," said Helga offering me her own hand. I knelt and kissed the back of her palm. Then slowly, gently, I slid my own ring onto Helga's finger. It fit beautifully.

"There," I said standing up again. "Now I just need to endure Gerald laughing at me for the next ten years."

"I could introduce him to ol' Betsy," said Helga with a wicked grin. But we both knew she would never go through with it. I drew Helga into my arms for a deep kiss.

OKAY NOW IT SHOULD ONLY TAKE ME ONE MORE CHAPTER TO WRAP THIS STORY UP. :D


	11. Chapter 11

The next few days were were a whirlwind of excitement. We had to explain to everyone we knew that we were engaged. Plus we had another family barbecue scheduled for tomorrow and we couldn't cancel. I had invited Mr. Hyunh to it.

I ate a lot of cherry-flavored alkaloids because when I am excited I tend to skip meals and that doesn't do good for me at all. Helga made me me drink a few protein shakes to make up for it and I was grateful. I had never known when we were kids that she could be so tender or nursing.

Our first engagement announcement occurred within minutes. After our kiss, I opened the hospital room door to find out what had happened to Grandpa and Gerald. Gerald stood there. I knew before I spoke what his response would be.

"Uh-huh. Anything you say, Arnold," Gerald replied rolling his eyes at me. My cheeks were a little pink because he'd seen Helga giving me a ring rather than the other way around. That must have been a disappointment for Gerald. He's a natural at masculinity. But at the same time I cherished that Helga had been the one to propose to me first. It was fitting to her very nature. It was fitting for our relationship, too, because she had been the first to confess her love to me. It had been her pink little notebook that had first convinced me I might be romantically desirable to the opposite sex. All of her tricks and dates and kisses has pushed me toward adulthood without me realizing. She had been steering from the background, not just our own romance, but my concept of love. Lila had never kissed me on the beach and left me wanting more. In comparison, her kind of love was plain, dull, boring! True, we never argued, but it was superficial. Helga, I came to realize, was raw, deep, and emotionally intimate. I came to crave a love that was passionate in both body and soul- and Helga had a lot of soul.

I was looking forward to asking Mr. Hyunh to come with my wedding so I was in a good mood as I set up for the barbecue. I was in charge of the grill. Alfred went off play in the sandbox with Helga. I was humming jazz to myself when I heard Mr. Hyunh's greeting from across the green. But when I shaded my eyes to look my jaw dropped. All of the old boarders of Sunset Arms rushed towards me. I was caught up in a crushing hug.

"Arnold! My ol' pal!" said Ernie the demolition worker giving me a bone-wrenching embrace. "It's been ages!"

"Wow. You look well, Mr. Potts," I said, recovering myself. I smiled back at my ecstatic friend. As I turned my head, there were three more familiar faces and also a slightly surprising one.

"My girlfriend, Lola," Ernie explained of the large, tall woman behind him. I recognized her, too. Ernie had made me help him prepare for his first date with the clothing model when we both had lived at the boarding house together.

"I'm happy for you!" I said shaking Lola's hand. Ernie outstretched his in a wide, sweeping gesture.

"Happy for ME? What is all this! You've got not just one kid, but two?! Incredible."

"Um, yeah, I do," I said looking back at my family. I waved to Helga and Alfred. Cecil was nearby with Grandpa and my parents but I could have rushed over there to take her in my arms just now. I was so proud.

"Little Buddie!" cried Oskar Kokoshka hugging me next. His wife, Susie, wrapped her arms around me, too, and I was temporarily suffocated.

"Oh, Arnold, we missed you so much!" the department store clerk uttered with her trademark 'tsk'.

"See, see!" said Mr. Hyuhn spinning a hand around in the air with enthusiasm. "I told you he would be here!"

"I hope you don't mind us crashing your party and all," said Mr. Potts. "But you see, when we heard you'all were back in town, we just had to see you!"

"It's great to see you, too!" I said, secretly choked up. I had missed them dearly. When I had moved away from my old old boarding house friends, the hurt had been so deep it had torn my heart out.

"Let me introduce you to my family," I said setting aside the grill I had been working on. Helga was slightly wary as a whole troop of people marched up to our children. But I picked up Alfred myself and showed him to my old friends from a near distance.

"My son, Alfred," I said proudly. Alfred squirmed in my arms, puzzled by what was going on. I gave him a playful press to his youthful, button nose.

"How old is he?"

"Four," I responded. "Four, yes I know! What a surprise, huh? We had him when I was fifteen."

"Fifteen!" Ernie exclaimed slapping his head. "Maiyon! You sure are a mover, Arnold!"

"Looks that way," I said. I handed Alfred back to Helga and took my beauty's hand.

"This is Helga. We're doing things a little backwards. We're getting married next month and since you're all here… now's as good a time to ask…. would you all like to come to it?"

"Would I?" Ernie shouted swinging his first around. "If you locked the door, I would use a wrecking ball to get in there!"

"I get to be the first man!" said Mr. Hyuhn using his whole hand to gesture to himself instead of one finger. I rolled my eyes because I knew where this would lead. The whole group of old boarders began arguing with each other about who would be the first.

"Guys, guys," I interrupted at last. "Gerald's my first man! But we can draw straws if the rest of you want to volunteer to come next." The old boarders glared at one another.

"Okay, you're on! But no cheating, Kokoshka, ya bum!"

"Great!" I said. My smile was wide and my heart was light.

The barbecue we ate was my best ever. I was reunited with my family again, all of them except my Grandma whom had passed away back when I was twelve. Though I missed her, I knew that Gertrude "Pookie" Shortman was watching over me from a far away place. Her love for me was one love I had never doubted.

When Helga whipped out a camera, all of the boarders took their excitement to a new level. It was a brand new family photo. A brand new day. Grandpa, Helga, my two kids, and all of the them would be in it. Ernie even went so far as to begin practicing posing for the photo by standing on his head while Mr. Hyuhn and Mr. Kokoshka made superhero poses.

"Oh boy," I said with a sly grin toward Helga as she set the camera's timer. This might be the most ridiculous family photo ever. But then I noticed that my parents watched the gathering from the crowd's edge, uncertain as to whether or not to join Grandpa and the boarders for the picture. My head bowed with guilt.

"Will you let your parents be part of it?" Helga asked me loudly, breaking me free of the dismal daydream. I paused. I was still absorbed in my head and time wouldn't move. "Will you let your parents be part of it?" Helga repeated. I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.

"Okay," I said. "I will." My heart was heavy with portent. This was more than just a family portrait to me. It meant I was agreeing to let my parents in. To give them a chance to be my parents again. I walked to them across the park green.

"Mom, Dad," I said rubbing my sleeve once for courage. "I know I've said some mean things. I know we haven't always got along. I was angry. But you know, what? I've come to realize that this time, it was me who was lost in the jungle. I've been lost for a long time and it's time for me to come home. If you're willing to forgive me, we can forget all about what's happened and start over." I took a long, deep breath.

"Hi," I said slowly offering my palm for my father to shake. " I'm Arnold. Arnold Shortman." My father stared for a moment before he caught on. Then he clasped his hand in mine.

"I'm Miles," my father said pumping my fist up and down. "Miles!" We shared a grin then- a soft, wane sort of grin filled with both good nostalgia and sad regret. The park wind blew over us and I felt it. We had our new beginning. We were going to work this out somehow. This time, we would both have respect.

"Come on," I said jerking my chin towards the waiting group. "Let's get our photo taken."

It was a perfect summer day and the photos turned out great. I had my family portrait, only it was much larger than I had ever thought it'd be. Helga, Cecil, Alfred, Grandpa, the old boarders, and my long-lost parents Stella and Miles- it wasn't just a good day. It was a great one. There's an old rhyme that goes, "make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other's gold." It was definitely true. My new family and my old family standing together were immeasurably precious.

I was in for another good surprise before the day was out. Grandpa let it slip that I was looking for boarders and Mr. Hyuhn did a triumphant skip of joy. "The old boarding house?" he cried. "I will move in now! This afternoon!"

"Mr. Hyuhn," I protested. "Don't you have to move out of your old place first?"

"I will go back for my old stuff later," said Mr. Hyuhn dismissing my protest. "I must go now to inspect if the wallpaper is peeling!"

"Oh boy," I thought. "Here we go again!" I'd be repapering Mr. Hyuhn's walls for the rest of my life, now. He was fastidious.

"Gee, well, I'd love to," Ernie said with true regret. "But I can't. I'm staying with Lola now. But that doesn't mean I can't come and visit you'all." The Kokoshkas looked at one another.

"We'll think about it," said Susie. "But you could come over to our house and see our own kid."

"You mean.. you and Oskar had a kid together?" I said my mind reeling. They had nearly broken up a million times at Sunset Arms. Oskar had stayed in my room for a week.

"That's right," said Susie.

"That's great," I lied. I was too busy imagining what a junior Oskar would be like to be happy for them.

A light rain began to splatter itself against the barbecue grill so I had to part with my dear, unconventionally-adopted relatives. I bundled Cecil up against the cold in her baby carriage and pushed it quickly away from the park to get her inside. Alfred and Cecil were both fine but I wasn't taking any chances. I made Alfred some hot chocolate and wrapped him with a warm blanket to sit on the couch when we got home. If I wasn't careful, I would be just as guilty of overparenting as my own had been.

"Arnold," said my Mom, Stella catching my attention as I settled down from my bustling. "Your father and I have something to tell you. You see," she said looking lovingly toward my father for comfort and support, "we've decided to move back to Hillwood. Your father is taking a job at the community college."

"What?!" I said. That was a tremendous demotion for an acclaimed researcher and archaeologist/sociologist.

"We've been thinking long and hard about things, Arnold," my father explained for himself. "That we've spent too much of our time thinking of our careers and what's best for you and not enough time getting to know you. We'd like to spend time with our grandchildren and so we've decided to stay in Hillwood. It doesn't have to be in your house. We're looking for a house of our own, too. We don't want to burden you." I bowed my head and thought as hard and deep about it as a few moments would allow. But my heart knew what to do.

"You don't have to move out," I said meeting my father's eyes. "You can stay with me. You're family." My Mom's eyes teared.

"Oh Arnold!" she said clasping me in a light hug. "My little miracle baby!"

"Yeah, Mom," I said a little awkwardly because I wasn't the best of sons with them yet. But Stella released me when I squirmed. I tugged my collar a bit, embarrassed because I was a grown-up dude, after all. Getting doted on by my mother was just sort of grade-school to me. Yet it had felt good all the same. It had eased some of the deep hurt, the gulf of misunderstanding between us.

"We'd like to help you out around the house, sweetie," my mother declared for both herself and my Dad. I knew it was the first time he'd heard about it from his expression. "While we're here, you don't have to do all the housework for yourself- and we can help with babysitting!"

"Well, Mr. Potts and Susie and even Mr. Hyuhn all offered for me to go to work for them," I mumbled. "Maybe I could talk to Helga about getting out of the house one or two days a week? To take up a job, I mean."

"Why stop, there, son?" said my Dad, Miles smiling. "If you'd like, we can watch the kids while you take a course at the community college."

"Dad!" I protested narrowing my eyes at him. "I am not getting pushed into doing anything! But I appreciate the thought. It's… considerate." I knew what I wanted, and at the moment that was being at home to raise my two precious children. School could come later for me. Plus it would be quite a lot of fun to use a wrecking ball for a living. College courses didn't cover that line of work. But I felt good. Having my parents around might make my life better, after all.

My wedding to Helga was a mere month later. We had waited long enough, we thought, so we took the first available spot in Hillwood's largest Catholic church. Ironically, we found ourselves standing in the same spots we had occupied years before. Back when we were nine, Helga had been the First Maid to Couch Tish. I had been Couch Wittenburg's Best Man. It almost seemed as if we had been practicing for our own wedding for not much about the old church had changed. The windows were still still stained glass and there was an organ instead of a piano. The carpet was as red as one made for Hollywood stars. The entire building smelt of used wax candles and incense.

On the day I married Helga, I was nervous, I'll admit it. My Tuxedo was never pressed enough and my bowtie seemed ever crooked. There was a lock of my hair that particularly drove me crazy because just when I thought I looked pretty sharp in the mirror it'd spring up again. But I knew what I wanted and I wanted to be here.

When the music played I caught my breath. Was I good enough? Could I be good enough for Helga Pataki? The strong, smart, funny, rich, bossy, successful business woman she had become and the mother of my two children? What did I have to offer? But when I remembered the love in her gaze I smiled serenely. I saw pure love there. My dearest friend. My chosen soulmate.

I passed by Eugene on the organ. Phoebe had him fly in from Texas and Phoebe, well, she was here, too, as a maid of honor. All it had taken for Phoebe to make up with Helga was for my bride-to-be to invite her to our wedding. I didn't see the meeting, but I imagined there had been a lot of tears involved.

When I had passed Eugene on the organ he gave me a thumbs up and a wink. But then I approached the altar at last. There was a whole busload of Men of of Honor there to cheer me on. Mr. Hyunh, Ernie, and Mr. Kokoshaka hung about as a grinning trio. Gerald was there looking sharp in his Tux. But astonishingly he wasn't my Best Man. It was my Dad.

My father, the one whom had got lost in the Jungle. My Dad, the one who I had thought had died. The same person who had seemed to stand between me and Helga was about to relinquish his fight and cede me to the woman I loved. I stopped and stared at the impossible- my father standing there with joy and tears in his eyes.

"I'm happy for you son," he said and my soul filled with this new peace.

"Thank you, Dad," I choked out for these unexpected words meant the world to me.

When the wedding music played, I tried not to snap my head around too fast and give myself whiplash. Helga paced down the aisle with the longest train of wedding of Tulle she had been able to find. She had wanted her wedding to be ostentatious so there were pearls in her gown and on her ears. Her red lipstick was immaculate and beneath it a self-satisfied grin. I imagined that grin was her way of saying, "Looking good, Football-Head."

I took a quick glance to make sure I had not mussed my Tux up terribly or something, then cleared my throat and rolled my eyes into the far corners of the room. Helga's fierce gaze left me feeling bashful until I remembered that this was the same woman I lived with. I rolled my eyes right back and my frown turned into a smirk. Helga and I stared at one another, lost in our own world for a moment. But the flowers in Helga's hand reminded us of where we were.

"Ahem," said the preacher. "Shall we get started?" A few of Helga's bridesmaids let out annoying little squeals. But I didn't bother to look back at them. I was too busy admiring Helga. She had really dressed up for me today.

"Do you Arnold, take Helga to be your wedded wife?" the preacher said after a long paragraph of words I hardly heard. I was off daydreaming again.

"Um. Yes!" I said "Yes, I do! Now and forever!"

"And do you, Helga, take Arnold to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"Sure, let's do this," Helga said with a patient shrug. "Now and forever!"

"I now pronounce you husband and wife!" the old preacher said at last and I approached Helga for my prize- the kiss. Only Helga bowled into me with such fierceness that I might have been knocked over. But oh, no! I wasn't about to give in like that! Instead I dug in my feet and recovered my balance. Then, I surprised Helga with a kiss that was equal in intensity to her own- on equal terms.

The heady kiss left me grinning. I didn't bother to see who caught the wedding bouquet. I hoped it was Phoebe because Gerald could use some happiness.

Helga dragged me around all of Europe for our honeymoon. I was reluctant to leave Cecil and Alfred in the care of my parents and Grandpa- even for a week. I feared some kind of twisted fate would separate me from them as it did me from my own parents for a time. But we got back home from our honeymoon safe and sound. Alfred and Cecil were fine. Helga and I made a lot of memories and even I had to admit Paris was fun. She didn't even have to pretend to be Cecil for us to enjoy it. After that, I guess, life settled down at the Sunset Arms and I put extra effort into being a landlord, a father, and now, a husband.

That about tells the tale of how my parents and I got to be on good terms again. They live at the Sunset Arms and you know what? Even if they and I were lost for a long time, we all have the rest of our lives to get to know one another. That's a lot of years to look forward to.

So thank you for asking how I've been. It's kind of you to care and I really hope that, someday, you'll find happiness in your own life, too. Best wishes from your old friend, Arnold.


End file.
